


stay where you are until someone finds you

by lpofdestiny



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lpofdestiny/pseuds/lpofdestiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The comings and goings of William and Gigi Darcy at Pemberly Digital's third floor production facility's wardrobe department. A Gigi friendship fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. April 9, 2012

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written fanfiction before! But there is a good reason for this...I'm not sure I can be faithful to characters who aren't mine. Nothing annoys me in fanfiction more. So, this story is my way of working around that by having it from the point of view of a character I made up myself. I hope this isn't sacrilegious or anything. I just wanted to give Gigi a friend...
> 
> The title is a quote from the Disney version of _Alice in Wonderland_ : "Well, when I was lost, I suppose it's good advice to stay where you are until someone finds you. But who'd ever think to look for me here?"
> 
> And leave a comment! I love comments ;-)

“Do you think he’s happy?”

Brandon doesn’t even look up from the dress form. “Hmm?” he mutters through the pins between his teeth. Lori knows he’s only pretending to not pay attention to her because he’s annoyed she’s stopped steaming the petticoats. They are suppose to be wrinkle-free by tomorrow, which is why they are staying late. Everyone else in the department has gone home for the night. 

“Mr. Darcy.”

Brandon jumps up and swipes the pins from his mouth, but he continues working, as if to show Lori that she shouldn’t stop everything just to chat. “I didn’t hire you to gossip,” he says.

Embarrassed, Lori gets back to work, focusing on the hiss of the steamer. It’s white noise, like the in-between channels on the radio or the rumble of a space heater. She hopes it will wash out her thoughts, but they remain there. Stuck.

“I mean, yeah, he’s hella rich, handsome, successful,” Lori muses ten minutes later. “But to lose his parents like that …”

Brandon blinks at her. “Hella?”

Lori refrains from rolling her eyes. “San Francisco born and raised, what do you want?”

“I want you to focus on your work.”

Lori quickly returns to steaming. She knows she’s lucky to get a job in her field a year out of school, even if it is as a wardrobe assistant. She may have wanted to work in a theater, but the production facility at a fast-growing media company is a good start, especially one with as many employee benefits as Pemberly Digital. She knows that. But she’s three weeks in and has found little excitement in doing grunt work and helping someone else execute their vision—especially if that vision is boring. Hearing the women (and Jim) from the secretarial pool gossiping about Pemberly’s young CEO in the dining facility has become the highlight of her day. She’s heard all about his mother’s fight with cancer and his father’s unfortunate boating accident. Being very close with her own parents—though less so with her mother—she couldn’t imagine how he coped. 

“No.”

Lori steams her hand by accident and bites her lip as she shakes it out. It takes her a moment to realize Brandon is answering her question from before, which is unlike him. He’s a taciturn man, hair graying at the temples from a life lived beyond his years. He doesn’t comment on the lives of others often, so when he does, you listen.

“But not because of the death of his parents,” he adds.

“What do you mean?”

Brandon gestures for Lori to continue steaming. Apparently, if she wants to hear more, she needs to keep working.

“People who lose their parents still find it possible to be happy. Because happiness is a choice. And Mr. Darcy has simply chosen not to pursue it.” 

“Why?”

“Because he believes other things are more important. Like the well-being of his sister. And he is very much concerned about this company and the people who work here. It is his family’s legacy, after all. It’s all he has left of his parents, so he puts everything he has into it.”

Lori nods. She noticed this from the very first day, when Mr. Darcy had summoned her to his office. Apparently, he liked to personally greet all the new hires. Lori remembers how nervous she had been, and how glad she was that she had worn a cardigan that covered her tattoo sleeve.

When she entered the room, he had been talking on the phone, demanding that the shareholders meeting be pushed back because someone named Thomas’s wife was in the hospital. Lori was surprised by how young he was, and evermore so when he hung up. His confidence instantly vanished and was replaced by seven layers of awkward. He greeted Lori curtly, welcomed her to Pemberly Digital, and then seemed at a loss for words. She threw him a line, mentioning how much she loved watching _Stories of Ann Radcliff_ as a kid with her Aunt Betsy. Mr. Darcy told her how there was a plan in the works to remaster it and release it on Blueray and DVD with all sorts of extras—maybe even stream it on Netflix.

Their conversation was soon interrupted though by the arrival of a girl not much younger than Lori, with short dark brown hair and beautifully pronounced eyebrows. She just about threw herself at Mr. Darcy and began to babble on about some new Mediterranean fusion restaurant that someone named Fitz had recommended. Mr. Darcy gently reproached the girl for ignoring Lori, so she spun around, her high-waisted circle skirt flaring out, and introduced herself as Gigi Darcy, Mr. Darcy’s sister. On finding out Lori was to be assisting Brandon Lopez in the wardrobe department, she begged Lori to sketch her a few ideas before her brother ushered her out. He had seemed exasperated, but offered to pay Lori extra to fulfill his sister’s wish. Even though she needed the money, Lori told him she would do it free of charge. Gigi had inspired her.

She rarely saw Mr. Darcy after that first meeting, but when she did, he would give her a polite greeting before moving on his way. Recently, he asked how her sketches for Gigi were coming along and she showed him what she had so far. He said very little, only that Gigi would be pleased.

“Why does it matter to you?” asks Brandon, bringing Lori back. 

Lori mulls over her answer a bit before she replies. “He’s a good man, and he’s been through so much,” she says. “He deserves happiness, don’t you think?”

“I believe he is content with the way things are.”

“But being content and being happy aren’t the same.”

“I never said they were.”

Brandon pulls the riding jacket off the dress form and marches over to his sewing machine without another word. Lori's worked with Brandon long enough to know that bothering him while he’s sewing is a sure-fire way to get herself fired. Instead, she is left thinking that all the money and success in the world wouldn’t be worth living half a life.


	2. May 11, 2012

“Oh my god, Lori! I mean…er…These are gorgeous! _Très magnifique_.” 

Lori smiles as she watches Gigi’s eyes light up as she pages through the sketches. If only her brother was as easily impressed—Lori would be a fully-fledged costume designer by now.

“Sorry it took so long,” Lori apologizes offhandedly. 

“Oh, no!” insists Gigi, shaking her hair out of her face. It’s a beautiful day and the girls had decided to take advantage of it by sitting on a bench in the Japanese garden, even if it is a bit windy. The air smells of spicy calzones from the food truck parked not far from them. “This was way more than I was expecting. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“What’s this?” Gigi taps a purple-coated nail to a faceless figure wearing a top hat and tails. Lori had been pleased with the way the scarlet brocade lining had turned out. 

“That’s what you’d wear if you were in the circus,” says Lori. “I think you’d make a perfect ringmaster.”

Gigi snorts as she laughs. “Ha! I wonder what William would think of that?”

“I don’t know.” A thought strikes Lori as she leans back against the wrought iron. “Hey, where is Mr. Darcy anyway? I haven’t seen him around the office lately.”

The instant Lori asks, she regrets it. She is fascinated by Mr. Darcy, but from a completely objective standpoint. She doesn’t know how many times people get the wrong impression from her when she studies them. She’s just interested in their story. Stories are the root of all her work. She finds it eminently fascinating to take a plot and turn it into a fabric, to take a character and turn him or her into a silhouette. It’s what she did for Gigi in her sketches. She enjoys doing the opposite even more though—to take a costume and build a character or a story around it. 

Thankfully, Gigi sees no harm in the question. “Knowing him, saving the world,” she jokes. “No, he actually went to help a friend move into his new place down in Hertford and decided to stay a while. Thank god—he needed a vacation.”

“Hertford?”

“I guess it’s a suburb of L.A.?” Gigi turns to the last page and gasps so loudly that she scares a flock of pigeons away. “You have to make this for me!” she cries, pushing the sketch into Lori’s hands. “I mean…please?”

Lori looks down at the hyacinth-blue Regency ball gown she had drawn with Renaissance-style trimmings and 1920-inspired accessories. It wasn’t a masterpiece by any means, but she had enjoyed the mixing of eras into one seamless vision. She had based the idea on Gigi’s idiosyncrasies—a modern girl from old money. If she had known it would resonate with Gigi so much, she would have drawn it with smoother lines.

“I’ll pay you,” adds Gigi.

“Where would you even wear it?” Lori asks, holding the sketch out. She needs to take a trip to the eye doctor again, but she’s been putting it off.

“I don’t know. Halloween party? It’s just—I have to have this. It’s amazing! This bluish-purple is, like, my favorite color ever. Please?”

Lori had heard that Gigi had a reputation for getting whatever she wanted. It didn’t make any sense at first since Gigi was so sweet, but now Lori sees why. It is impossible to turn down such enthusiasm. 

Luckily, Brandon is on one of his notoriously long lunch breaks, so Lori takes Gigi back to the wardrobe department so she can take her measurements. Once they are penciled into her notebook, she begins to pull fabrics. She won’t use them, but they’ll help her get an idea. All the while, the two talk about everything under the sun.

“You don’t have a Twitter?” asks Lori in shock as she pulls out a bolt of lace. It might work well as an underlay. 

Gigi grimaces and scrunches up her nose. “Is it really that surprising?” 

“You’re the heiress to a media company!”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

The two are occasionally interrupted by Lori’s co-workers. They want to hear how Gigi’s finals went and if they can expect to see more of her. They ask about tennis, her plans for the summer, and what kinds of concerts she has plans to see. It turns out that Lori and Gigi are both huge fans of Florence + The Machine, and they make vague plans to go see them when they come to town.

When Gigi leaves, Karen the wardrobe supervisor sidles up and mentions that she’s glad to see Miss Darcy so happy. In hushed tones, she explains that the girl went through a bad bout of depression a few years ago and still struggles sometimes. At least that’s what she’s heard from Amir in the graphic arts department. 

Lori is shocked. She would have never guessed.


	3. July 18, 2012

“Don’t you have a depressing song to tweet or something?”

Gigi makes a face as she follows Lori through the racks. “You’re the one who told me to get a Twitter account,” she complains.

Production for Pemberly Digital’s latest venture, a modern retelling of _Sense and Sensibility_ , is in full swing. Her days are filled with the frantic dry cleaning of sundresses and re-sewing of seams. It doesn’t help that the girl playing Marianne is one stuck-up bitch who seems intent on having everything her way, right down to the clothes she wears. Lori keeps on getting sent out to the thrift shops in order to keep the talent happy. She’s exhausted, and it shows. She didn’t mean to snap at Gigi.

“Sorry,” Lori says shortly. “What did you want?”

“I wanted to apologize for missing my last fitting. I—”

“Forgot,” finishes Lori. She knows it’s the truth, but this is the forth time something like this has happened. She loves Gigi, but the girl is as flighty as they come. 

“I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

Lori sighs as she grabs a couple of garments Brandon requested on set. She knows Gigi means it—she ‘made up’ for missing her last appointment by throwing an office party for Lori’s half-birthday. It was excessive, even if the cake was delicious. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” says Lori, a little too quickly. She looks down. “Just…whatever is bothering you…let it go. Okay? I’ll be here if you need me.”

Very suddenly, Lori finds herself enveloped in a hug. She is not a fan of hugs, but they don’t seem so bad coming from Gigi. When the girl pulls back, there are tears in her stormy eyes.

“That means a lot to me. I’ll try to be better.”

Lori puts a comforting hand on Gigi’s shoulder. “I don’t think anyone wants you to be better, Gigi. I think they just want you to be yourself.”

“Lori!” yells Brandon from the open doorway. The force of his voice shoots through Lori’s soles and straight into her spine. She cringes involuntarily. “I need you out here. Now!”

Lori rolls her eyes. “Coming!” she shouts.

“When can I reschedule?” asks Gigi. “What time is good for you?”

“September.”

“Okay.”

Lori pauses, startled. “I wasn’t serious.”

“But that’s when you have time, right?”

“Lori!” shouts Brandon again.

“I said I was coming!”

Lori grabs a few more hangers and goes to meet Brandon. He softens a little when he sees Gigi trailing after her, but not much.


	4. September 22, 2012

“Did I tell you William called me yesterday?”

Lori looks up from pinning the hem of Gigi’s dress. It’s a Saturday at Pemberly Digital, and the buzz of the florescent lights are their only companions. Lori didn’t want to meet on the weekend, but with Gigi returning to college the coming week, they were running out of time to schedule the final fitting. Truth be told, it took Lori much longer than she had anticipated to make the gown, but she really enjoyed spending time with Gigi and was certainly going to miss her and her stories.

“No…” says Lori slowly, unsure of what else to say.

Gigi sighs and rubs one of her temples. “He’s been acting so weird lately,” she explains. “I don’t know what’s up with him. I mean, sometimes he sounds happier than I’ve ever heard him, but other times he gets really snippy with me, like he’s frustrated or something. It’s not like him. Usually he’s so even about, like, everything—But when I ask him about it, he brushes it off. When I talked to him today though, he was—Ow!”

Gigi flinches. Lori pulls out the pin she accidentally used to jab Gigi’s ankle, sucking in air through her teeth. “Sorry! You okay?” She lifts the hem quickly to see if she broke the skin. Everything looks fine.

Gigi shakes out her foot and smiles. “Just a little prick. Don’t worry about it.” 

Lori tugs the taffeta taunt so it doesn’t happen again. “You were saying?” she prompts, more curious than she’d like to admit.

“Oh, right. Today, William was back to his old self.”

“And that’s a…good thing? Bad thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. It could just be because he’s back in the groove of things. He’s in L.A. right now, at the other branch.”

“I thought you said he was going to stay in Hertford through the end of the month?”

Gigi shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Long story. His friend decided to move back to L.A. and—yeah…”

She drifts off into companionable silence for a moment. Lori glances at Gigi to try and read her face. Her eyebrows are knotted, a wounded expression painting her face.

“I just want him to be happy, Lori,” she finally says, quiet and soft.

“Well, with a sister like you, I’m sure he is.”

Gigi steps down off the platform, yanking the fabric out of Lori’s hands and pulling a few pins loose. They scatter like raindrops on the floor. Confused, Lori looks up to see Gigi turned away, her hair a dark curtain over her face. It takes Lori a moment, but it dawns on her that her careless words must have struck a nerve. She should apologize, even if she doesn’t exactly know what she is apologizing for, but before she can say anything, Gigi lifts her head and catches Lori’s eye in the mirror. 

“There…there was a time when I caused William a lot of unhappiness. Things are better now, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to make it up to him.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Gigi doesn’t look convinced and Lori honestly doesn’t know enough about the situation to be able to comfort Gigi further, so she changes the subject instead. “C’mon. I’ve got to finish this hem.”

Gigi lifts her dress a little and gingerly steps back up onto the platform. She is quiet and withdrawn for a long time—the girl Lori has only heard about in hushed tones in the dining facility—but she eventually warms back up. They get on the topic of Aunts and Lori gets to hear all about Gigi’s heinous Aunt Cathy, who believes everyone at the kennel club doesn’t enjoy her company because they are just jealous of her lazy-eyed asthmatic Chihuahua. Her personal habit of criticizing everyone has nothing to do with it.


	5. October 11, 2012

“Mr. Darcy! This is a surprise. I wasn’t aware you were in town.”

Lori snaps her head up from the cutting table to find Brandon shaking Mr. Darcy’s hand. She notes that she isn’t the only one. Everyone in the entire department is looking at Mr. Darcy.

“Flew in yesterday,” says Mr. Darcy with a sharp nod to Bandon. “I’m actually here to speak with Miss Winters.”

Brandon casts a glance at Lori, so she quickly looks down—but not before she sees the flash of accusatory questioning in his iron eyes. _What did you do?_ Lori returns to cutting. As far as she knows, she’s done nothing wrong. Just to be on the safe side though, she rearranges her face so she looks as innocent as possible. If this is about that actor who broke out into hives, it wasn’t her fault.

Lori feels Mr. Darcy’s shadow on her, but continues to work.

“An…interesting tattoo.”

Lori drops her cutter and grabs her arm like it’s on fire. Shit! She had been steaming earlier and got so hot that she took off her jacket. “Er…I’m so sorry, Mr. Darcy. I normally cover it up. I swear it won’t happen…again…” She drifts off when she notes that he doesn’t look offended. “And…you don’t care,” she realizes aloud. She gives a relieved laugh and brushes her bangs out of her face.

“Is there a significance behind it?”

Lori holds out her left arm and twists it around. “It’s the story of Alice in Wonderland.” She points at a young girl inked near her elbow among a twist of colorful trees and a Cheshire cat grin. “See? It’s a huge inspiration to me.”

Mr. Darcy squints and then gives a shallow nod. “A fantastic children’s novel, though I prefer Through the Looking-Glass myself due to the chess imagery.”

“Uh…I just watched the Disney version when I was sick.”

“Oh.”

There is silence, so Lori throws him a line again. “What did you want to speak to me about?”

Mr. Darcy pulls out his phone and flicks through a few screens before showing it to Lori. She tilts her head to see a photo of Gigi wearing the finished Regency gown, a wide smile making her whole face glow. She is holding out the skirt in a white-gloved hand, pinky out and faking a curtsy. She sent the same picture to Lori yesterday.

“I wanted to thank you for making this for my sister,” Mr. Darcy explains. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Oh, not at all! It was a ton of fun. Your sister is awesome.” Lori swears she sees the ghost of a smile across Mr. Darcy’s face when she says this, but one blink and it’s gone. She has a hard time believing he was ever happy _or_ frustrated.

Mr. Darcy takes the phone back so he can look at the picture himself. “It’s exquisite. I knew of your talent, but this far outstripped even my expectations.”

“Uh…yeah. Thanks.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “You don’t agree?” 

Lori shrugs. “I dunno. Seems kind of vain to think so highly of myself.”

“Do not mistake pride for vanity. You’re only vain if you are proud everything, regardless of quality.”

Lori fakes a smile. Being prideful of what you did right is the quickest way to ignore what you did wrong in her opinion. Her mother is living proof. But she isn’t going to disagree with Pemberly Digital’s CEO. Not to his face, at least. And especially not with Brandon watching. She knows he’s just waiting for an excuse to give her the ax.

“I’ll clearly have to keep you in mind for future projects,” says Mr. Darcy.

Lori is stunned. “Uh…yeah. I mean. If you want.” She remembers her manners. “Thank-you.”

He nods and makes a move to leave, but something stops him. Lori watches, trying to hide her amusement that could possibly be taken as disrespectful, as he silently debates himself. Finally, he leans in and drops his voice. “And thank you for being such a good friend to my sister.”

Lori is thrown for a loop. She likes spending time with Gigi, but she wouldn’t really consider them friends. It’s not like they hang out outside of work ever. But if Gigi says they are friends, then they are friends.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me. My sister’s happiness is my top priority.”

“That’s sweet. She says the same thing about you.” 

Lori means it as a compliment, and is confused when Mr. Darcy wrinkles his brow, hurt. 

“Does she not think me happy?” he asks, staring at a point beyond Lori’s shoulder. 

Lori is startled. She understands _how_ Mr. Darcy jumped to that conclusion, but not _why_. “I-I don’t know. Are you?” she stutters before she can stop herself. 

He pulls back, his mouth a thin line. His face is blank, but something hard creeps into his eyes despite his best efforts. Lori backpedals as fast as she can. Why did she even answer him? Why did she even ask that? Damn her curiosity. Who cares if Mr. Darcy is happy or not? It’s none of her business. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I mean…All I meant was that you and Gigi care about each other a lot.” 

“Yes. We…uh…do.” He nods. “Good day, Miss Winters.”

He turns on his heels and briskly leaves the room, everyone pretending not to watch him leave. It is only when Lori hears the distant ding of the elevator down the hall that she lets loose the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Brandon gives her a cursory glance, so she returns to her cutting. 

She knows she won’t be fired, but so much for being kept in mind for future projects.


	6. December 20, 2012

“Merry Christmas!”

Lori turns to see Gigi standing next to her work station, adorned with a Santa hat and a goofy grin. In her hands is a package wrapped in shiny green paper, tied up with a gauzy red bow. It takes Lori a moment, but she notices the holly sprig and cinnamon sticks stuck to the ribbon are real. Of course.

With a wry smile, Lori goes over to the filing cabinet with her name on it. She slides it open and pulls out a present wrapped in brown paper that she decorated with festive swirls using her colored pencils. It was better than newspaper, at least. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything!” says Gigi.

Lori shrugs. That’s the point of gifts, after all. “It’s nothing big,” she says as they exchange presents.

By the time Lori gets the bow off her box, Gigi has unwrapped her gift. She holds up a pair of fleece-lined leg warmers. Knitted cupcakes dance across them, smiling and holding hands. They are mint green, hyacinth blue, and fuchsia—Gigi’s favorite colors. 

Gigi gasps as she turns them over, needling the material with her fingers. “Did you make these yourself!?” she asks.

“What kind of self-respecting designer would I be if I didn’t?”

“I love them!” Gigi throws her arms around Lori’s neck. Lori grimaces and pats Gigi’s arm until Gigi gets the hint and releases her. “These’ll be perfect for my ski trip.”

“That’s why I made them. When do you leave?”

“Today, actually! Well, I mean, I’m flying out to meet William in L.A. today. We leave for Lake Tahoe on the twenty-third.” She gestures to the half-open gift in Lori’s hands. “Now it’s your turn. Open it!”

Lori does as she is instructed. Beneath a sweet card (Happy Holly-days!) and a cloud of tissue paper is a drawing tablet. And not just any drawing tablet either—a Wacom Intuos5 Medium Pen tablet with 48.4 square inches of work space and multi-touch functionality. Lori doesn’t even dare pick it up for fear that she’ll wake up and find out it’s all a dream.

“It’s the wrong size, isn’t it?” says Gigi despairingly, reading Lori’s shock all wrong. 

“No, no!” Lori picks up the tablet, trying to pretend it isn’t worth a month of rent. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”

“You sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Yes. It’s like you read my mind.”

“I actually just talked to Brandon.”

Surprised, Lori turns and looks at Brandon’s back as he talks with a couple of other designers.

“You know,” says Gigi, absentmindedly sliding one of the leg warmers onto her arm. “I don’t think he hates you half as much as you think he does.

“That still means he hates me,” Lori points out.

Gigi shoves Lori good-naturedly, causing the latter to clutch her new tablet for dear life. Gigi doesn’t notice. “I’m serious! He’s like my brother. He’s just not very good at explaining himself. Er—don’t tell my bother I told you that.” 

Lori laughs as she goes to put the tablet into her filing cabinet where she knows it will be safe. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I haven’t seen your brother in months.”

“I know the feeling.”

“What are you talking about? You saw him for Thanksgiving.”

Gigi heaves a sigh. “Yeah, but I already told you that we were with a bunch of other people and he wasn’t really up for talking. I don’t know. It was like he was there, but he wasn’t. Does that make any sense?”

Lori nods.

“That’s why I’m looking forward to our ski trip so much,” Gigi continues. “It’ll be just the two of us, so we’ll have plenty of time to catch up. I hope he tells me what’s been bothering him. I’ve never seen him this unhappy before…”

Gigi’s face falters. Lori often gets the impression that Gigi is a bright chiffon print draped over black silk. It’s no longer impractical, but at the expense of darkening the color palate. 

“He probably doesn’t want to burden you with his problems,” Lori suggests.

“That’s not fair. He’s done so much for me! How am I suppose to return the favor if he doesn’t let me help him?”

“Help him anyway.”

Gigi opens her mouth to argue, but Brandon strides up, swiftly ending their conversation. “I’m sorry, Miss Darcy. Lori’s needed elsewhere,” he says.

Brandon is soon listing supplies he wants Lori to compile. Her and Gigi exchange hurried goodbyes, a second round of thank-yous, and some more Christmas cheer. Gigi even throws a pair of air kisses in there for good measure.


	7. January 4,  2012

“Lori! Thank god you’re here! I need to look like a tour guide.”

The words don’t register at all. Lori turns to see Gigi standing in front of her, wearing a black tank top and a pleated skirt with a dark cherry motif. Her hair is a mess and her cheeks are red. She holds a clipboard in one hand, papers clipped to it every which way.

“Did you…run here?” asks Lori in disbelief as she throws a empty dairy creamer cup into a recycling bin.

“It’s an emergency!” Gigi insists as she grabs Lori’s wrist and drags her away from the coffee machine and the prying eyes of the production staff. “Please! You have to help me. I’m not dressed right for this at all. I don’t want to look unprofessional.”

Lori’s never seen Gigi this anxious before. “And why do you need to look like a tour guide exactly…?”

“Because I’m suppose to be one today. My first tour is at ten-thirty.”

Lori glances at the clock on the wall. “Gigi. That’s in ten minutes.”

“I know! That’s why it’s an emergency!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lori spots Brandon coming out of wardrobe. He scans the room for her, no doubt wondering what is taking her so long to get him his coffee. She’s knows she doesn’t have much time before he spots her dawdling. 

“Brandon’s got me doing stuff,” Lori explains, making her way over to him. “Why don’t you ask Rhonda to help? That’s more of her thing anyway,” she throws over her shoulder. 

“No. Lori—!” 

Gigi chases after Lori, who thankfully reaches Brandon before he can spot her first. She hands him his mug, which he takes without so much as a thank you.

“I’m going to need you to do some sorting this morning,” he says.

“That’s going to have to wait,” insists Gigi, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. “Lori is helping me with a very important project.”

“Miss Darcy…” Brandon tries to smile, but it isn’t exactly easy for him. “I’m sure there are more qualified staff members than Lori who can assist you.”

“It has to be her!” says Gigi, growing more frantic. “She’s the only one I trust! It’ll just take ten minutes. Less than ten minutes! Please!”

Brandon chews the inside of his cheek for a moment. Lori feels bad for Gigi. She’s not use to not getting her way to the point where she outright refuses rejection until it turns into acceptance. But that isn’t going to happen with someone like Brandon. He’s as stubborn as they come.

“Fine,” says Brandon finally. “I have to have a chat with the new art director anyway.”

He moves away, but Lori is so shocked by his consent that she remains rooted to the spot until Gigi yanks her out of it.

“Come on!” she hisses.

The two race into the next room and head for the racks, dodging Karen as she stands on her tip-toes to put a hat box on the top shelf. Lori heads right for the women’s blazers, Gigi trailing behind, and begins to push through them, fighting off clingy plastic. She pulls out one that looks promising—a tailored white suit jacket with sharp edges that would contrast nicely with Gigi’s girly skirt. Lori glances at the tag though and it forced to hang it back up. She knows Gigi’s measurements—the jacket would be too small. She pulls a classic black one next, but regrets the choice when she realizes it has patches on the elbows. Definitely not the story she wants to tell. In the end, she settles on a gray tweed blazer with an emblem on the breast pocket. She knows the sleeves are too short, but it’s not like time is on their side. 

“Put this on,” Lori says, tossing it at Gigi before moving down a few rows to the accessory drawers. She yanks one open and starts pulling watches. Lori’s trying to decide between a silver bangle watch and a bold, black one with a metallic face when she hears Gigi approaching her.

“I like it! But the sleeves are a little—”

Lori chooses the black watch when she notices that it has the correct time. And Gigi only has six minutes to get her butt down to the lobby to greet her tour group.

“Hair and makeup,” Lori insists, handing the watch to Gigi.

“What’s wrong with the way I look?” asks Gigi, subconsciously smoothing out her hair.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for my help.”

“Okay, okay…”

They dart down the hall to the styling studio. Under Lori’s direction, Gigi’s hair is slicked back and most of her make-up is removed. Her cheeks are dusted with powder to hide their flush.

“Now go!” shouts Lori, shoving Gigi out into the hall. Gigi stumbles towards the bank of elevators, laughing. It's infectious. A few interns stare at them, but neither of them care.

“We should do this more often!” Gigi jokes as she hops into an open elevator.

Lori can only shake her head. “You’re crazy.”

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Please don’t say that.”

Gigi just grins and waves as the doors slide close. 

Lori basks in the resulting stillness for a moment. She wishes she could see Gigi in action, but knows the tour groups never stop by the wardrobe department, especially when there is so much to see in not a lot of time. Lori’s been at Pemberly Digital going on ten months now and only just found out there is a smoothie bar on the top level of the gym. 

Instead, Lori resigns herself to her work and trudges back to the wardrobe department. Brandon is there is greet her and she is forced to get on with the mind-numbing dullness that is sorting. She entertains herself by imagining the character she created for Gigi—a nervous tour guide on her first day. She doesn’t have the most money or the nicest clothes, but she is knowledgeable and warm. She constantly asks if there are any questions since she doesn’t abide confusion, especially if she is the one causing it. After her day is done, she’ll kick off her heels and walk barefoot back to her car, where she’ll eat a leftover doughnut from this morning and return to her apartment where her polydactyl cat, Sammich, is waiting to greet her. She has a fiancé too, but he’s in the military and currently stationed in Japan. She’s very lonely without him.

The hours tick by faster than Lori anticipates and soon Gigi is by her side again. Just as well, since it’s almost time to leave. Karen can rest easy now, now that she knows everything will be returned to it’s proper place. 

“How’d it go?” asks Lori, hanging the blazer back up. It smells like chlorine, but it doesn’t matter. She has to dry clean it after every individual use anyway. 

“Perfect!” Gigi thinks for a moment. “Well, the first tour went well, but then the two o’clock…”

“It was kids, wasn’t it?” guesses Lori from the nauseated look on Gigi’s face.

“Never. Again.” 

Lori laughs and takes the watch off Gigi’s hands. “What group was on the first tour?”

“It was just one girl. Lizzie Bennet. She’s a grad student shadowing the company. You’ll have to meet her. She’s _really_ cool.”

Try as Gigi might, she can’t contain her excitement. Lori tilts her head. She had been wondering why Gigi volunteered to be a tour guide today. Maybe it had been to meet this girl? Lori doesn’t say anything though and just nods, agreeing that they’ll have to grab a bite to eat at the dining facility together sometime.


	8. January 16, 2013

“Excuse me, Miss Winters.”

Lori looks up from the recites she is filing away to see Mr. Darcy hovering in the doorway to the department. She looks around and realizes she is the only one still left—everyone else must have taken their lunch break. She vaguely recalls them inviting her, but she had so much extra work to do because Karen is out with the flu that she declined. She sent out for a sub sandwich instead.

Lori jumps off her stool. The last time they talked, just the two of them, she was pretty sure she had offended him. “Mr. Darcy! If you’re looking for Brandon, he’s—”

“I’m not looking for Brandon. I’m…” He pauses to search for words. “Perhaps you can help me,” he says finally. “Gigi tells me she trusts no one else.”

“Oh…um…” 

He strides further into the room, sliding his hands into his pockets. Something about him seems different, but Lori can’t figure it out. It’s like some harshness about him has been rubbed smooth, like rough leather that’s been oiled for the first time.

“Could you find me a newsboy cap and a bow tie?” he asks.

Lori stares. At least Gigi’s request to look like a tour guide made sense. She regrets showing her confusion though when Mr. Darcy grows conscious of her gaze and starts to leave. 

“Disregard what I just said. I’ll—” 

“No, I was just…you know, we have so many different options.” 

Lori will be damned if she lets an opportunity to show Mr. Darcy that she is perfectly capable of handling an odd project slip away again. She’ll stay in line this time. She promises. 

The corners of Mr. Darcy’s mouth flip up and Lori notes an ease spreading through his shoulders. So far, so good.

“I trust your judgment,” he says.

“Well, what’s this for?”

“Me.”

“Yeah, but, like, personal use or are you going to be on camera?” Mr. Darcy gives her a curious look, so Lori quickly explains herself. “I only ask because lights used during filming often wash out colors. You’ll want to go with jewel tones. And I know you used the word ‘newsboy,’ but I'm betting you probably mean a flat cap rather than an eight-paneled cap. It's okay. A lot of people don't know the difference.” 

“I’m appearing on a vlog, if that information helps your selection.”

“Oh, who’s?” 

Lori can’t help but be curious. Knowing Mr. Darcy, it has to be someone big in the vlogging world for him to bother to make a personal appearance. Maybe Pemberly Digital is partnering with the Vlog Brothers? She knows everyone in the programming department is buzzing about this new Domino app. Maybe this is how they’re going to get the word out about it. 

Mr. Darcy swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “There is a grad student who is shadowing Pemberly and—”

“Lizzie? Lizzie has a vlog?”

Mr. Darcy freezes. “You know Lizzie.”

Lori is about to answer, then pauses. Was that not a question? Mr. Darcy’s inflection made it sound more like a statement. She shrugs it off.

“Yeah. Gigi introduced me to her and we’ve eaten together a few times. I didn’t know she had a vlog though.” They bonded over overbearing mothers and being poor. For the most part though, Lizzie talked about her older sister Jane, who was in the designing industry too, but fashion rather than costume. Lori found fashion design exhausting and wondered how the poor girl kept up with it.

This catches Mr. Darcy off-guard even more. “She…said nothing of it?”

“No. Why? Is it any good?”

Mr. Darcy fumbles to retrieve his pocket watch and it falls out of his pocket, swinging around wildly on it's chain. It takes him a couple tries to get it firmly back into his grasp so he can check the time. Lori pretends not to have noticed.

“I’m running on a tight schedule, so if you’d please, Miss Winters.” He makes a whirling motion with his hand and gestures towards the racks.

“Right.” 

Lori spins around and makes a beeline for a bin of clothes that has yet to be sorted. She bought a jaunty tweet flat cap just last week that she hopes will be to Mr. Darcy’s liking. The brim is a little shallow, but if he is going to be on camera, the viewers will need to see his face.

Hat in hand, she goes over to the accessories corner. A clip-on would definitely not be Mr. Darcy’s style. She considers jewel tones, but they all seem a little too bright for the occasion. In the end, she selects a dark scarlet silk. Black would have been a better choice, but Mr. Darcy is wearing neutrals and he can stand to have a little color. He’s going to be on a vlog, not attending a charity benefit. There needs to be at least a hint of whimsy.

When she returns to Mr. Darcy, he has already taken off his tie. He twists it in his fists, his knuckles white, and is more than happy to trade it for what Lori is offering him. She wait for him to comment on her choices, but he simply throws the hat on and threads the undone bow tie through his collar. He ties it perfectly without even needing a mirror. His fingers speak of years of practice.

“How…how do I look?” he asks.

Lori wonders if this is how Alice felt when she wound up in Wonderland. What surreal world is this? Why is her boss’s boss’s boss asking her opinion like a boy getting ready to go to his first school dance? He looks like a dork, but she’s not about to tell him that.

“With clothes, a better question is always, ‘How do you feel?’” she says diplomatically.

Mr. Darcy nods and Lori is disappointed when she realizes he isn’t going to answer.

“Thank you for your help, Miss Winters,” he says as he turns to leave. "I'll leave you to your work."

“Wait!”

Mr. Darcy turns back and Lori offers him his tie in a balled-up mess.

“It’s Lori,” she insists.

His eyes cloud, as if he isn’t sure what Lori is trying to say or do.

“Your tie?” Lori offers helpfully, waving her hand from side to side.

“I’ll be back for it,” says Mr. Darcy finally. “Thank you, Miss Wint—Lori,” he adds.

Lori watches Mr. Darcy leave. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t move out of the way when the sandwich delivery guy tries to pass him in the doorway. The delivery guy is forced to dodge, smacking into the frame as he hoists his delivery bag high into the air. Mr. Darcy pauses, apologizes, and then disappears around the corner. Confused, the deliver guy looks at Lori, then to Mr. Darcy’s retreating back, and then back to Lori.

“What was that all about?” he asks as Lori comes forward to relieve him of her sandwich.

Lori shrugs cheerfully.

Once she’s paid the delivery guy and taken a few glorious bites of her pastrami on rye, she goes over to Brandon’s computer and minimizes his latest concept art in order to pull up Youtube. She types ‘Lizzie Bennet vlog’ in the search bar and hits enter. The page loads a list of colorful thumbnails featuring Lizzie’s face (and some Vidcon footage, for some reason). She scrolls down to see how many there are. Episode one, episode five, episode sixty-one—she pauses. Episode sixty-one seems to feature Mr. Darcy. In bow tie. 

Interesting.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Lori pushes away from the computer, the chair squeaking across the tile, and stands up. Brandon is marching across the room, his eyes blazing with anger. Lori is tempted to throw her sandwich at him and run, but he’s already reached her before her body catches up with her mind.

“Youtube…?” he realizes, his anger cooling.

Lori instinctively exits the window. What did he think she was doing?

“Did you finish filing those recites?” he asks.

Lori shakes her head. “Mr. Darcy stopped by and then my lunch came, so I decided to take a little break.”

“Mr. Darcy came? What did he want?”

“He just borrowed some stuff.” As Lori returns to where she was filing, she feels Brandon’s eyes digging into her back. “He’ll be back if you don’t believe me.”

Lori feel vindicated by the look on Brandon’s face when Mr. Darcy finally does return, hat in hand. By that time, everyone’s back from lunch and the wardrobe department is once again a hub of activity. His appearance draws everyone’s attention, but they all pretend to be busy. For once, Lori is not one of them. She joins Brandon as he goes to greet the CEO.

“If you needed something, Mr. Darcy, you should have come and found me or Rhonda,” says Brandon.

“And interrupt your lunch hour, Mr. Lopez? I wouldn’t dream of it,” says Mr. Darcy, unknotting the bow tie at his throat and dropping it into the hat before offering it to Lori. “Lori was more than happy to assist me.”

Lori sees Brandon give an imperceptible jolt at Mr. Darcy’s use of her first name.

“It is my job,” says Lori, offering Mr. Darcy his tie.

“You pressed it,” notes Darcy as he runs his thumb along the silk before taking it off Lori’s hands. The edges of his eyes crinkle in appreciation.

“I’m surprised you noticed. Good eye.”

“To be fair, it was a wrinkled mess when I gave it to you.” He pops his collar and precedes to tie a flawless double Windsor. “You have great forethought. Brandon is lucky to have you.”

Lori sneaks another glance at Brandon, who seems to be having a hard time processing everything. She fights back the urge to laugh in his face. If her job has taught her one thing, it’s how important it is to be a professional. You never know who is watching you.

Mr. Darcy folds down his collar and slides the knot into place. “I must be going. Good day to you both.” He nods to each of them in turn and then is gone. 

As Lori returns the hat and bow tie to their proper places, she realizes she never came up with a story. She tells herself it’s because it’s hard to make one up with only two accessories, but she knows she’s just lying to herself. The real reason is because she suspects the real story behind them is better than anything she could ever come up with.

She can’t wait to go home and curl up with her laptop tonight.


	9. January 21, 2013

“About time he figured it out. God, that was hella awkward. Do you know if he’s called Jane yet? Please tell me he’s called Jane.”

Gigi puts her phone into sleep mode just as the cheery jingle finishes and slips it back into her purse. “I don’t know…But he went back to L.A. yesterday, if that helps.”

Lori pokes at a sleeve hanging down in front of her. It was Gigi’s idea to hide in the racks and watch the latest episode of the Lizzie Bennet Diaries. Brandon thinks Lori is helping Gigi pick out a tie for Mr. Darcy because he spilled coffee on the one he is wearing.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this,” complains Lori.

Thanks to the videos, Mr. Darcy’s past behavior suddenly makes a whole lot more sense—now Lori understands why he was so affected when she asked him if he was happy. She’d like to think she played a part, however small, in convincing him to follow his heart, since he left for Hunsford soon after. Granted, it hadn’t turned out well, but at least he had tried for happiness. At least he recognized that he wanted it and needed it, that being content wasn't all it was cracked up to be. And now it is clear to her why the hat and bow tie held such importance. She couldn’t help but feel proud when she saw them on display in episode eighty. 

“I told William I could trust you to keep it a secret, but he just didn’t believe me. And I didn’t want to make him unhappy by going against his wishes,” says Gigi, parting the clothes as she stands. She turns and offers Lori a hand, helping her up. “He’s changed his mind though.”

“Not like he has a choice,” mutters Lori. “But he’s fooling himself if he thinks he can keep this thing a secret forever. He’s the CEO of a media company for god’s sake. I doubt I’m the only one who knows about them. Gossip is a hot commodity around here.”

Gigi’s eyes widen. “What!?” Apparently, the idea has never even crossed her mind, bless her soul.

“Oh, relax. They aren’t going to say anything, Gigi. We all just want to see your brother happy. He’s a good boss. If anything, you’ll probably notice people talking him up to Lizzie. Someone’s got to make up for Fitz’s wingman fail.”

This seems to calm Gigi down a bit. “Now that you mention it…”

The girls look through the tie racks, knowing Brandon will be suspicious if Gigi leaves without what she came here to supposedly find. Though Lori offers up several classic choices, Gigi goes with a green and red Christmas monstrosity with a battery pack in the bottom that makes Rodolph's blinking red nose light up. Excited with her find, she leads the way back out onto the floor. Brandon catches Lori’s eye and she senses a hint of self-righteousness behind them that never sits well with her. Then she notices who is speaking to him.

For a tie that is stained with coffee, the one around Mr. Darcy’s neck is remarkably clean.

Lori slows her pace, but Gigi doesn’t even break a step. 

“I told you there was a clean tie in your desk,” she tells her brother. “Now don’t you feel silly for sending me down here to find you one? That’s time Lori could’ve used doing something else.”

Lori arrives and looks down at neon yellow flats. There is no way—

“A good thing too,” says Mr. Darcy. “I knew what kind of tie you’d pick out. Let me see what fashion faux pas you would have saddled me with this time.” Lori glances up and watches Gigi waggles the Christmas tie in Mr. Darcy’s face. “Crisis averted,” he says, giving Lori a wry smile over his sister’s head.

Gigi blows her hair out of her face. “Fine…I’ll put it back.”

“I’m sure Mr. Lopez can attend to it.”

Lori’s not sure who is more surprised, her or Brandon. He smooths it over with professionalism though as he takes the tie from Gigi with a murmur of affirmation and disappears.

“I’ve given a lot of thought to what you said last week, Gigi,” says Mr. Darcy, briskly turning to a new topic. Gigi shrugs when Lori looks to her for answers, which doesn’t escape him. “Come now. Surely you remember how you told me Lori’s talent was wasted on being Mr. Lopez’s assistant.”

“Oh! That’s right!” says Gigi.

“Lori, how would you like to help in the production of the Domino demo? We need someone to dress the spokes model.”

Gigi gives a strange guttural squeak and covers her face with her hands. Lori doesn’t know what that’s all about, but is elated at the thought of having a project all her own. Ideas are already flooding into her head. The spokes model’s clothes should be a reflection of Domino itself—sleek and trendy, but down-to-earth since the application is intended for personal use, for the telling of stories. She stops herself though before she gets too far ahead.

“That’s hella—” She stops short and tries again. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Darcy, but I would hate it if you passed over a more qualified candidate just to honor a favor to your sister.”

“Lori!” Gigi slaps Lori’s arm. Lori doesn’t even flinch. She’s got her own code to uphold.

“Then think of this as a chance to show me you are qualified,” suggests Mr. Darcy. “I cannot gauge your talent unless I see it.” Gigi open her mouth to argue. “In a professional setting,” he adds quickly, shutting his sister down.

Lori can’t argue with that and agrees. Mr. Darcy promises to e-mail her the details and have Reynolds send down a fresh copy of the production schedule. Brandon returns and seems genuinely happy to hear about Lori’s project, though he grouses that she better not use it as an excuse to slack off on her work for him. She promises him that she would never dream of it, even if that might be a lie. 

“Do you wish to tell her?” Mr. Darcy asks Gigi as their conversation wraps up. “You’ve been holding it in long enough.”

“Can I tell her over lunch?” says Gigi. She turns to Lori, her eyes sparkling. “We could go to the Grand to celebrate!”

“I believes that is up to Mr. Lopez’s discretion.”

Both Darcys look to Brandon. Under normal circumstances, taking an extended lunch break to a restaurant off-campus would be an impossibility for Lori. But having the company’s CEO in her corner makes anything feasible. Soon Lori finds herself being seated across the table from Gigi at the contemporary French restaurant, a pillar lined with golden glass tiles on one side and a bank of beautiful windows looking out onto the street rife with theater patrons arriving for a matinee on the other. Gigi naturally knows the waiter by name and they chat a bit as he pours them glasses of cucumber water.

“So what did you want to tell—” starts Lori as soon as the waiter leaves.

“I’m the spokes model!” Gigi blurts out.

“What!? That’s awesome!” says Lori warmly, ignoring the stares of the other people in the restaurant. “I didn’t know you could act.”

Gigi shakes her head. “I can’t. I’m actually super nervous. But I thought, this is something I want to do. Something I have to do.”

“Why’s that?” 

Gigi is suddenly really interested in her drink. She twirls her straw around, ice cubes clacking against the glass. “I really admire Lizzie. She’s not an actress either, but she has no problem telling the whole Internet about her life in an engaging way. She’s fearless. She doesn’t keep everything locked away. She doesn’t let her vulnerabilities define her like I do.” She pauses for a moment to let the words sink. “I want to be like that, so I thought doing the demos would be a good step in the right direction since they’re going to kind of be like a vlog.”

Lori thinks of the whispers in the halls when Gigi passes. The songs and movies filled with heartache she posts on her Twitter feed. The way she flinches as the word ‘pool.’ Lori only has pieces of the story, just shrouds of black fabric, but it’s enough. 

“You’re a lot stronger than you think,” says Lori.

Gigi looks up, surprised and disbelieving.

“I mean it,” Lori insists. “You’ve come this far, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but—” Gigi argues weakly.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Gigi. You know that. If you don’t believe me, test yourself. You’ll see.”

Gigi struggles to come up with a counterpoint, but nothing comes to mind. Instead, she smiles softly and looks up, her sea blue eyes glossy and wet.

“Thank you,” she says.


	10. January 24, 2013

“Gigi…”

As a rule, Lori never gives hugs. She thinks of them as fake actions. They are suppose to show love, but they are given and received so often, so freely, that they no longer carry any weight. They are just like pretty words or transparent fabric—useless unless something backs them up. If someone wants to give her one, fine, by all means, but she isn’t going to be the one doling them out.

But after watching Gigi tell the Internet her story, she can think of no other way to show her friend sitting next to her that she is sorry. That she is proud. 

That she cares.


	11. January 28, 2013

“Lori.”

Lori glances up from the sewing machine to find Mr. Darcy frozen in the middle of the floor, tilting his head as if believing she is a figment of his imagination. She can’t say she’s surprised. Of course he would be here this early. She is a little embarrassed though that she didn’t hear him come in. Sometimes she gets so wrapped up in the rhythm of the needle that time passes quick and silent. 

Mr. Darcy regains his senses. “I was unaware anyone would be here at this time.”

Lori cranks the needle up and shakes out the skirt she just finished hemming. A swift glance at the clock tells her that it is a little passed eight. Most of the staff don’t start rolling in until nine.

“Er…yeah. With filming of the demo coming up, I’d thought I’d come in early and get some stuff done so I’m not pressed for time later,” Lori explains as she stands up. Spots fill her vision and she sways a bit—a morning person, she is not. In her mind, she’s just rolling out of bed now.

Mr. Darcy gives her a hint of a smile. “That is very admirable of you.”

Lori takes the skirt and slips it over the neck of a dress form, tugging it down to the waist before smoothing out the wrinkles. “Anything I can do for you this morning?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer at first, so Lori turns to look at him. He struggles to say something, but no words come. He pulls back and looks away, his eyes darting back and forth as if running through a speech in his head. Lori thinks of a fabric starched within an inch of it’s life. She’s got to do something to put him out of his misery.

“You need to borrow something again?” Lori prompts.

Mr. Darcy gives a tiny nod and nothing more. Lori waits in uncomfortable silence.

“And that would be…?” she says.

Mr. Darcy mumbles something. Lori is about to ask him to speak up, but he coughs and tries again. “A wig. An…afro, to be more precise.”

For a moment, Lori runs through all the normal reasons why Mr. Darcy would need something like that. He’s grabbing it for someone else. He’s…actually, that’s it. It is a very short list. 

Oh, wait. Costume theater. 

_Fitz_ costume theater. 

It takes every fiber of Lori’s being not to burst out laughing. No. He’s not. There is no possible way. If he is, she wants to see proof. Maybe he’s just getting it for Lizzie? But the last time Mr. Darcy came down to grab a costume, it was for him. Lori wants to ask, but knows it isn’t her place. Instead, she is the picture of professionalism. Mr. Darcy might as well have asked to borrow a pen.

“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” she says, spinning around and walking briskly to a wall of mannequin heads. She pulls the shorter black afro down off one, shaking the dusk from the top of it. When she turns back, Mr. Darcy is looking at her as if she tapped danced over to get the wig instead. “Something wrong?” she asks, snapping him out of it.

“That will do well, thank you,” he says, coming forward. His embarrassment, though palpable, is veiled by something else. It’s only when Lori sees the anticipation shining in his eyes that she recognizes it. He’s excited. She’s only seen him like that once, during his state of the company address. “I’ll have this back to you soon,” he says as he leaves.

Lori waits for the faint ding of the elevator before she breaks out into a grin so large that it makes her cheeks hurt. She runs to the filing cabinet, flats smacking against the tile, and throws it open with a bang. With fumbling hands, she finds her phone and scrolls down her contact list to text Gigi. She can hardly keep her fingers steady.

_Your brother needed an afro. You know what this means, don’t you?_

It takes Gigi no time at all to answer. 

**ASDFGHJKL**

**No**

**I mean yes. Yes!**

**William!Fitz**

**It was for Lizzie’s videos right?**

_I don’t see what else it would be for…_

**Good point**

**How was he?**

_Excited. Embarrassed. Not nervous like last time though._

**You HAVE to keep me posted**

**Promise youll keep me posted**

**Lori?**

**Promise**

_Relax. I promise._

_I feel like a spy._

**Your the best spy ;-)**

***you’re**

Lori tries to return to the long laundry list Brandon gave her to complete in the coming week, but she can’t focus anymore. Instead, she heads to the accessories and paws through all the necklaces. She definitely thinks Gigi should wear one tomorrow for the Domino demo, but there are so many choices. She’s thinking pearls, but doesn’t want the jewelry to look too outdated. It’ll have to be something classic, but with a modern twist. 

“Lori?” comes Mr. Darcy’s voice.

Lori jumps. It felt like no time had passed at all. She pulls open a draw of ticking watches to check. No, she is right. It has really only been about ten minutes. 

She goes to join Mr. Darcy out on the floor again. “Back so soon?” she asks. 

“Oh, don’t sound so disappointed.”

Lori flinches a bit as she takes back the proffered wig. She’s never seen Mr. Darcy so cavalier before. He looks at Lori as if they are sharing some kind of private joke. His costumer theater with Lizzie must have gone well—better than well—even though it was short. And Lori is dying to know the details. 

“I’m not disappointed,” she says, a bit too defensive. “Just…uh…curious.” 

“Be careful. I hear curiosity often leads to trouble.”

Lori smirks. She knows that line all too well. “So…you watched _Alice in Wonderland_ , huh? What did you think?”

“A fairly good adaptation. I thought it was only fair since you watch Lizzie’s vlog.”

Knowing full well that Darcy is amused, Lori laughs as she turns away and returns the afro to it’s home along the wall. It’s not every day the CEO of your company calls you out on being a bit too invested in his personal life. Down the rabbit hole she goes.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you,” explains Lori. “I just thought you’d value discretion.” 

“I do, and I appreciate that. But I’ve recently discovered that I value honesty just as much.”

Lori isn’t sure if she believes that and challenges him by raising an eyebrow.

“It is the truth!” Mr. Darcy insists, most adamantly. “I could have gone my whole life without knowing what Lizzie really thought of me. But I’m glad I didn’t. There are some…some aspects of my personality that needed…improvement. My pride for one. And I know you would agree.”

Lori suddenly has an urge to occupy herself. She turns away and begins to gather together some papers into a neat pile on Brandon’s desk. “What are you talking about?”

“The day I thanked you for making that dress for Gigi. Do you not remember? I insisted that you take pride in your work—foolishly unaware that it is not always the positive trait I make it out to be. You understood the importance of humility.”

“I…I didn’t say that.”

“You did not need to. Your face is always easy to read.”

Lori looks up, shocked. Her fingers find their way to her ear as she tucks a few stray waves behind it. “Excuse me?” 

Mr. Darcy is just as baffled. “I-I apologize. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re—I mean…I just didn’t realize…” Shit. Was she really that much of an open book? She knew it was rude to reject Mr. Darcy’s praise, which is why she had said nothing. Her mother’s stock phrase, ‘If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,’ rings in her ears. But if Mr. Darcy could tell what she had wanted to say, even if the words never passed her lips, other people must as well. Her heart sinks. She thinks of a white to black Ombré effect on a cotton sheath. This is not happening.

“It’s fine,” says Mr. Darcy shortly, a hint of alarm in his steadfast voice. “I am not angry. You have impeccable judgment. No wonder Gigi trusts you as she does.”

Lori bites her lip and tries to calm herself down. At the very least Mr. Darcy never found her offensive. She considers that a bullet dodged. But how many more had she taken?

“So you want me to be honest, hmm?” asks Lori.

Mr. Darcy nods.

“Okay. How did things go with Lizzie?”

He turns away, but Lori catches the tail end of his smile thanks to the dimple in his cheek. “I think you’ll see soon enough. She rushed me out because she decided last minute that the cooperate interview we were doing made for a much better video than the one she planned to upload today.”

Lori turns and looks at the clock. Lizzie generally uploads her videos to Youtube a little after nine. She certainly isn’t giving herself a lot of time for editing. 

Her phone beeping with a new text message pulls Lori from her thoughts. 

“Do you need to answer that?” asks Mr. Darcy, eyeing the phone at Lori’s workstation. He doesn’t wait for her to answer. “I should probably let you go. But thank you for all your help, Lori. I knew Brandon made the right choice in hiring you after I met you.”

Today is just filled with shocking revelations. “Really?”

“We here at Pemberly Digital value passion. You love working with costumes and it shows. You jumped at the chance to sketch for Gigi, even if it meant extra work. No payment was even necessary. It just goes to show that there are some things money cannot buy.”

Lori winces as her phone beeps again and again. She knows exactly who it trying to reach her and silently bemoans Gigi’s timing. Lori tries to apologize, but Mr. Darcy cuts her off by motioning for her to answer it.

“Please. Put my sister out of her misery,” he says when Lori looks unsure.

Lori clenches her teeth and gives a pained smile at being caught. She slides the phone off the table and opens up her and Gigi’s conversation.

**Whats taking so long? Did he come back yet?**

**Loriiiiiiiii**

**Is he happy?**

Lori looks to Mr. Darcy. She is hesitant, but she’s wanted to ask him this question again ever since he didn’t answer it the first time. And here is the perfect opportunity. 

“Gigi wants to know..." Lori pauses, as the coming question is mostly her own. "Are you happy?” she asks. The words sound so tinny and small, like the garments around them are absorbing sound.

Mr. Darcy doesn’t answer right away. He seems thoughtful and reflective. Lori wonders if he is thinking of when she last asked him too—of how much things have changed since then, within himself and within those around him.

“Very much so, yes,” he finally says. 

Lori smiles.

 _With a sister like you, who shoves him into rooms with the love of his life, how could he not be?_ Lori texts Gigi back.


	12. January 29, 2013

“We start in ten, people!”

The small office is a flurry of activity. Lori stands off to the side, watching as the set dresser leans a couple of books against a frame of fabric squares Lori helped her pick out. She knows how much Gigi appreciates fun prints. To her left, a gruff lighting technician adjusts a lamp and then yells at the production assistant—what’s his name again? Sam? Steve?—to close the blinds just a smidge more. The poor guy knocks over the potted plant trying to follow orders.

Lori sighs and tries to slip away, but she can barely make it five steps down the hall when her ears are assaulted by the clomp of heavy block heels on the carpet behind her.

“Yoo-hoo, Lori! Have you seen Georgiana?”

Lori doesn’t bother hiding her annoyance as she turns to face the overtly bubbly woman wearing one too many frills. It’s not like she’ll notice. Anne Elliot’s intense optimism seems to shield her from everything.

“She’s just freshening up in the bathroom,” says Lori. “I’m going to go get her now.”

“Perfect, perfect!” trills the woman. “You know we can’t start my baby’s demo without her!”

A strained smile is enough to appease Anne and she returns to her conversation with Harvey from the marketing department. Lori turns away darkly. Anne is the programming team lead for the Domino application, and though Lori is sure she isn’t a bad person, she’s a little…oblivious. And a little crazy cat lady when it comes to the technology she helped develop.

Lori darts into the bathroom before anyone else can stop her. Gigi is still sitting in the same spot underneath the hand dryer where Lori left her, wide-eyed and ripping up a brown paper towel. The nest of shreds around her has grown.

“Ten minutes,” says Lori at the same time Gigi croaks, “I can’t do this.”

Lori wants to throw a sink at Anne. 

When Gigi came in this morning, she was a little nervous, sure, but mostly excited. Apparently, her brother was going to ask Lizzie out on a real date soon. 

“I haven’t told Fitz yet,” said Gigi, throwing off her bubble jacket. “But—Oh! What if I told him during the demo?”

Lori hesitated before answering, but Gigi was quick to notice and cut her off.

“The marketing department told me to be candid, remember? Whatever I would naturally do. And you’d know I’d bring this up to Fitz first chance I got.”

“Yeah, but…I don’t think your brother would want everyone to know about his plans,” said Lori.

“It’s not like I’m going to drop any names! It’ll be fine.”

“But what if Lizzie sees the video and—”

Gigi waves her off. “I’ve already talked to Lizzie. She has no clue William still likes her. It’s kind of adorable actually.”

“But who else would your brother ask out on a date?”

Lori’s questions were causing Gigi’s exuberance to fade fast. Whenever Lori made Gigi’s face fall, she felt like she just murdered a puppy. She hated being the realist in their friendship.

“Why do you have such a problem with this?” asked Gigi, biting her thumb nail.

Lori purposely didn’t answer because she knew Gigi wouldn’t take it well. The fact of that matter was, no matter what Gigi did, she would always have a job at Pemberly Digital. That was one of the perks of being an heiress. Lori and the others involved with the demo did not have the luxury of being the CEO’s sibling though. If Gigi screwed up—if the level of professionalism wasn’t where it should be—they were the ones who would pay for it. The marketing department was taking a risk on Gigi, and everyone knew it.

“I’m so nervous about this…” said Gigi softly. “Being myself is the only way I can overcome my anxiety. And I want to do this. You know how much this means to me.”

Lori felt torn. Gigi’s face sometimes—it just wasn’t fair. Lori never even stood a chance. 

Gigi’s excitement level skyrocketed back up when she turned the conversation to her outfit for the shoot. She had refused to let Lori show her beforehand since she didn’t want to ruin the surprise, which honestly put Lori in a bit of a tight spot. What if the clothes didn’t fall right? She knew Gigi’s measurements, but fitting something to numbers wasn’t the same as fitting it to a person. In the end though, Lori had nothing to worry about. Gigi came bounding out of the dressing room looking every bit the confident spokes model she was intended to be, gushing about Lori’s choice of a black sheer lace top paired with a black silk camisole.

While getting her hair and makeup done, Lori noticed Gigi twitching a bit, so she tried to distract her friend by explaining her inspiration. She had taken her cues from Domino itself, which was all about telling a story ‘one chapter at a time’ using the best technology had to offer. To her, it was old Hollywood glamour meets sleek modernity, and wanted Gigi’s look to reflect that. So Lori took things that were considered vintage—pearls, lace, a smoky eye—and gave them a trendy twist to keep them young and fresh.

On location, Gigi met with Anne and Harvey to go over talking points and buzz words. There was no script (and no director) for the demo since the marketing department wanted to show off Domino’s capabilities through personal usage. They hoped to get the viewers of the demos, the prospective buyers, invested in Gigi’s life—her story—and thus the product. That wouldn’t happen though if they sensed any kind of artificiality. It sounded needlessly complicated to Lori but, hey, she was just the costume designer. 

Somewhere between rehearsing the basics and the phrase “life-revealing application” though, Gigi mentioned she was a bit nervous. Anne assuaged those fears by reminding Gigi that Domino auto-edited, auto-updated, and auto-uploaded everything. There was no need for multiple takes. Whatever Gigi did would just have to do because the video was going straight to Youtube regardless.

Lori knew Anne meant well, but as soon as she and Harvey went to talk with other members of the crew, Gigi’s frozen smile melted and she went into panic mode, escaping to the women’s restroom. 

“She means it’ll cut out your mistakes,” Lori tried to explain.

“Not mine,” whispered Gigi, her face turning pale.

Gigi promised to come out once she calmed down a bit, so Lori left in the vain hope that time was all her friend needed to regain her confidence. With five minutes until they were scheduled to shoot though, this was looking less and less likely.

“I don’t get it,” says Lori, crossing her arms and leaning against the cool glass tile. “You’re in Lizzie’s videos all the time. How is this any different?”

“This isn’t a vlog! It’s a professional demo—”

“Where you talk about your life.”

That shuts Gigi up. Lori can only sigh.

“Listen. I know you’re nervous, but a lot of people are counting on you. Especially me And if you don’t film the demo, how is anyone going to appreciate my work?”

The last shred of the paper towel drops from Gigi’s hands. Her eyes harden a bit as she turns to glare at Lori. “Wow. Selfish much?”

Lori scoffs. “You think I’m being selfish?”

“You don’t understand. You’re not the one on camera. I’m under a lot of pressure. I have to be perfect.”

“You’re the one who volunteered!” Lori throws out her arms, her patience fraying like cheap wool. She’s not sure what else she can say to coax Gigi out of hiding. “You’re being melodramatic. Why would Domino leave in your mistakes? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because the software uses facial expressions and voice inflections to gage what is interesting. It keeps what is and cuts what’s not,” Gigi explains. “And you know me. I’m…expressive. Especially when I mess up.”

“It…uh…does that?” asks Lori. 

Gigi’s fear suddenly makes a lot more sense. She’s seen Gigi make a mistake before—she’s like a train wreck if the train could dig itself in a deeper hole while simultaneously crashing. It might be hilarious to watch, but it is a little embarrassing for Gigi.

“Yeah,” says Gigi. “Didn’t you read the information the programming team sent out?”

It was a packet an inch thick. Of course Lori hadn’t read it. “I might’ve…skimmed it…” she offers lamely.

Gigi smiles to herself as she sweeps away the paper towel fragments, suddenly deep in thought. There is a knock at the door.

“Miss D-darcy? A-are you in there?” stutters the production assistant. Lori still can’t think of his name. Sven? Solaris? Definitely something with an ‘S’.

“Coming, Isaac,” says Gigi loudly.

Lori turns back, surprised to see Gigi getting up. Her confidence, not to mention her color, has returned. It’s like someone flipped a switch. But before Lori can even ask her about it, Gigi is dragging her out of the bathroom, nearly hitting Isaac in the face when she throws open the door.

Once she reaches the set, Gigi goes over to Darren, the producer, and whispers something in his ear. He nods and gestures for Gigi to sit down behind the desk, so she settles herself onto the low-backed chair in front of the iPad set up at her eye-level. The Domino app is all ready to go. Lori quickly takes a specialized lint brush to Gigi’s top. The camera always seems to pick up on dust.

“It’s time! It’s time!” says Anne between short gasping breaths. She shoos Lori and everyone else towards the door. Lori wishes she could stay and watch, but it was decided when the office location was chosen that no one but Gigi and Darren would be in the room in order to cut down on background noise. The rest of them would wait outside in case there were any issues.

“Lori, you’re staying,” Lori hears Darren say matter-of-factly. There is the sound of metal on metal as he opens a folding chair for her.

“I am?” says Lori at the same time Anne says, “She is?”

Lori looks to Gigi, who nods vigorously. Lori shrugs and takes her seat. The iPad blocks her view of Gigi, but she’s not complaining. Even if she’s not an heiress, being friends with one definetly has it’s perks too. Now she doesn’t have to wait outside the door like an obsessive eavesdropper. 

“But whatever for?” cries Anne.

“Clothing malfunction,” says Lori dryly, crossing her legs.

Anne doesn’t catch the sarcasm. “Perhaps I should stay too. There are still a couple of kinks and bugs in the system and if anything should go awry, I would hate it if…” While she talks, Darren nods to Isaac, who begins to gently herd Anne out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Start Domino whenever you are ready, Gigi,” says Darren.

Gigi smiles, brushes her hair out of her face, and touches the iPad. She then gives a little wave. “Hi everyone! My name is Gigi Darcy and welcome to Pemberly Digital’s brand new video portal.”

Gigi isn’t perfect, of course, but that is sort of the point—for there to be authenticity. She stumbles on words and trails off on her lists, but she makes for a very engaging storyteller. Her excitement is real and fun to watch. Lori especially enjoys Gigi’s banter with Fitz.

“Hey. How’s your bro?” Lori hears Fitz ask. She can just picture him waggling his eyebrows.

“He’s good,” says Gigi. “He’s been…busy.”

A pause. Imagined head tilt. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, well, you know William. Just reserving theater box seats on nights when his sister has conditioning sessions.”

Lori takes a peek at Darren only to catching him giving her a sidelong glance. Their eyes meet and Lori raises an eyebrow at him. He smirks back and Lori realizes that she was totally right about other people at Pemberly knowing about the video. Darren wouldn’t have been her first choice, but now she can kind of see it…wine snob, family man, Dizzie shipper. Of course.

He makes a motion that Gigi should wrap things up after Fitz signs off, so she does her tag and ends the recording.

“Was that…was that good?” asks Gigi right away.

Darren taps on his teeth and leans back. “It was what we were looking for.”

“You were a natural,” says Lori, standing up. “What changed? You were a nervous wreck before—”

The door bursts open, Anne leading the charge as she waves her phone around. “My baby just finished uploading! Oh, it works like a dream! This is the happiest day of my life!”

Lori and Gigi look at each other and then burst out laughing. Even Darren grins and Lori takes note of a few others. It’s like they’re in a secret club or something. 

They watch the finished demo in it’s entirety. It looks like Lori was right about Fitz’s head tilt, but wrong about the eyebrows. After that, the crew hustles to clean up the set so it is ready for Friday. Lori ends up being so occupied that she completely forgets about Gigi’s meltdown until Gigi brings it up while they return to wardrobe.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” says Gigi, bouncing on her feet as they ride the elevator down to the third floor.

“Sorry I couldn’t help,” Lori offers in return.

“But you did! Didn’t you wonder why I had Darren ask you to stay during filming?”

“Uh…because we’re friends?”

“Do you really think Darren would have said yes for that reason?”

Now that Lori thinks about it, it did seem a little odd. Darren was one of the few people that could be counted on not to play favorites. That’s why Mr. Darcy selected him to produce the demos. Even if his sister was the spokes model, he wanted high quality work. Gigi was not to be indulged for once. At least, that is what the secretarial pool gossips said last week. Shockingly enough, they had yet to find out about Lizzie’s vlogs. If they did, they would have a field day. 

“You were my audience stand-in,” Gigi explains. “I mean, I was going to explain to you how Domino worked in the bathroom, but I thought I might as well film the demo at the same time.”

The elevator dings and Lori feels her feet beginning to drag as they head down the hall towards wardrobe.

“So I’m ‘Everyone’ and we’ve never met?” Lori jokes.

Gigi scoffs and gives her a little hip check. “You know what I mean.” She pauses, growing serious. “You helped. A lot.”

“No,” says Lori firmly. “That was all you. When are you going to realize that you’re stronger than you think?”

Gigi doesn't answer.


	13. January 30, 2013

“Gigi, you would not believe what I found for you!”

With Brandon’s hard fought permission, Lori had gone out to the thrift shops to find clothes for Gigi to wear. She had a few outfits already set aside for the demos ahead, but she hated to be constrained to what the wardrobe department already had on hand. That place sometimes sucked the life out of her—Mission Thrift revitalized her. Finally, some creative freedom! She picked up a few possibilities for Gigi, but also a really cute dress for herself that looked similar to the one Lydia wore in episode forty-three. 

It had been her best day at Pemberly Digital yet.

“But I want to be surprised…” complains Gigi over the phone.

“We talked about this.”

“I know, I know…” A sigh. “What did you find?”

“…A tank top with an art deco squirrel print.” 

This elicits the proper amount of squealing from Gigi. Lori is forced to hold her phone away from her ear. “Omigosh!” she hears Gigi shout. “Squirrels!? Please tell me it’s my size and you’re not just calling to taunt me. Because if you are, that is what they call cruel and unusual punishment, Lori.”

“Relax. It should work.”

“Send me a pic?”

Lori locks eyes with her reflection in a mirror near check out, her arms layered down with clothes. She grimaces. Gigi is in her fantasy land again, where everyone has phones with picture taking capabilities. Must be nice.

“I’ll be back soon if you want to drop by the wardrobe department and take a look,” says Lori, skirting around the question. 

“Did you forget? It's Wednesday. I’m off to class. But you better be heading back soon! Lizzie told me she was going to film a video about her new phone as soon as she returns from her lunch break, and I think William is going to ask her about going to the theater then. What if there is some costume theater involved?”

“I’m sure Rhonda or—”

“Did you forget what we found out this morning?”

Lori smiles as she flops her finds onto the counter for the cashier. This morning, Gigi had dropped by with a diabolical plan to suss out the closet Lizzie Bennet Diary watchers by slipping quotes from it into conversation. Lori was up to her elbows in indigo dye, but she listened as Gigi went around, systematically talking to everyone. She was about as subtle as Mrs. Bennet, or at least Lizzie’s interpretation of her. It took all of Lori’s strength to hold in her laughter.

“Brandon, do you dislike smiling because it contorts the face?”

“If you want a good workout, try walking. The hills in this city can be quite unforgiving. Am I right?”

“Oh, hi! It’s so good to see you!”

“Is your background a picture of your dog? He is totes adorbs. Whaaaaaaaaat!”

"Oh, hi! It's so good to see you!"

“I think that dress is decent enough, don’t you?”

"Oh, hi! It's so good to see you!"

“He sounds like a nice guy, Karen, but what if he’s gay? What if he’s a serial killer? What if he’s a gay serial killer?”

None of them took the bait, though Lori didn’t think that proved anything, especially since Gigi was the one winking at them. Gigi seemed convinced though. 

“You’re the only one who knows how important William’s requests are,” insists Gigi. “You have to be there, just in case. Especially since I won’t be there. Please?”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there. Geeze.”

Traffic ends up being terrible though, and by the time Lori arrives back on Pemberly’s campus, it is well passed two o’clock. Helping Mr. Darcy is the furthest thing from her mind—the only thing she can think about is the reaming Brandon is going to give her the instant she walks through the wardrobe department door. No doubt the phrase ‘wasting of company time’ is going to come up. She is so preoccupied that she almost doesn’t notice Lizzie rushing off the elevator as she boards it until she is already inside.

“Lizzie?” asks Lori, catching a glimpse of auburn hair at the last moment.

Lizzie spins around, knuckles white as she grips her canvas bag. Her hair is mussed and her eyes are wild and red. 

Something is wrong.

“What is it? What happened?” Lori asks. 

Lizzie just shakes her head as she backs away. “I’m sorry. I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Lori. Really. But, I…I have to…I’m going home.”

A million fears rampage through Lori’s head on Lizzie’s behalf. Only a family emergency would be able to call Lizzie away now, when things were going so well between her and Mr. Darcy. Lori scrolls through them rapidly, each one more horrible than the last. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet are getting a divorce. Jane was in a car accident. Lydia overdosed on Xanax. Mary’s father died of a heart attack. 

“Will you be back? Will you—”

“No.”

"Lizzie..." A grave-faced Mr. Darcy comes striding up across the lobby floor and Lizzie turns towards him, Lori in the elevator instantly forgotten. It doesn't matter anyway, since the doors are now sliding shut. "This way. The car is--"

 _Waiting,_ Lori assumes. As she is whisked away to the third floor, her thoughts are ablaze with all the things she had failed to ask Lizzie. Did Mr. Darcy ask her out? Did she accept? Did she already film a video for tomorrow? Will she still post it? What had even happened? Did Gigi know? Gigi should know.

Fumbling with her purse, Lori pulls out her phone only to remember she won’t get any reception in an elevator. She jabs the third floor button repeatedly instead, as if it can get her there faster. Once she arrives, she searches for bars near a conference room. Brandon will be angry at her for being late anyway, so what’s the harm in a few minutes more? 

Lori gets Gigi’s cheery voicemail and a beep.

“Hey, Gigi. It’s Lori. I know you’re in class but…uh…I just ran into Lizzie and she seemed hella upset and—god, I don’t even know.” She pushes her hair off her forehead and combs her fingers through to the ends. “I think it’s a family emergency? She’s leaving though, and she told me she wasn’t coming back so…maybe check on your brother? See if he’s okay?” 

It is then that Lori makes up her mind to check on Mr. Darcy herself. She'll go back down and have a little chat with him. He might need someone to talk to. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” says Lori, wrapping up the call. “Bye.”

A quick glance down the hall tells her that no one has spotted her yet, so she hits the button for the elevator and slips back inside when the door opens. The ride back down is achingly slow as her thoughts twist through her head. What could have happened? Why did it happen? She is curious to find out—

Wait.

No, she isn’t curious. She is concerned. Right? A wave of nausea hits her. Where was her concern about Lizzie, then? Something awful had happened, and all Lori could think about was the narrative of it, the what happens next. She hears Alice’s voice overlaid with Mr. Darcy’s: _Curiosity is a dangerous thing_. That had been a joke, of course. Just a joke. So then why was she thinking about it now, of all times? 

“Well?”

Lori tilts her head to find Mrs. Reynolds waiting right outside the elevator doors. Lori doesn’t quite remember them opening, or even reaching the lobby for that matter.

“Are you coming off or not?” the woman asks, switching a heavy stack of papers from one arm to the other.

“Oh. I…” Lori looks down. “I must not have been paying attention…”

She moves to make room and the two ride the elevator up in silence. Lori slinks off on the third floor again and tries to pretend her momentary lapse of judgement didn't happen. Brandon is, predictably, not happy, but Lori accepts his criticism without a word. She has a hard time focusing on his face though. Her eyes keep drifting off to stare into empty space. 

It’s a mistake Lori’s made before. She falsely believes that the second-hand accounts she’s heard, the stories she tells herself, (the Youtube videos she’s watched…) are just as good as actual interactions. She thinks she knows people. She thinks she knows Mr. Darcy and Lizzie. But that isn't true. The reality of it is that both of them are, at most, acquaintances. It is why she is more curious than concerned. Gigi is the only one she actually knows, and she did what she could for her friend by calling her. There is nothing more Lori can do for now since... _it isn't her place_. Lori winces at the words. Her mother was bound to be right eventually.

 _But I do have a place as Gigi's friend_ , Lori realizes, snapping back to reality. 

As soon as Brandon lets her go, she sneaks her phone out of her purse, puts it on vibrate, and slips it into the pocket of her skirt. 

If Gigi needs Lori, she'll be there.


	14. February 1, 2013

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I didn’t mean to…”

Gigi covers her face with the palm of her hands and shakes her head, unable to say anything more.

Lori struggles to overcome her complete shock. How could Gigi get so far off the general outline? She was suppose to message Fitz and banter with him about his upcoming Superbowl party. That was it. It was meant to be light and fluffy. Yes, she started a little off-track in the beginning, but that was only natural considering all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. Lori had been confident that it was only a little hiccup. But then Gigi decided to message her brother and it was all downhill from there. 

Darren looks at Lori helplessly, as if begging her to do something, say something, because he has lost his ability to express himself in coherent and respectful sentences. Lori jumps up from her chair like she’s sat on a pin.

“That was…uh…interesting…” Lori tries.

Gigi lifts her head, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I was only going to message him. I swear! But then he…he said…and I…” She bits her lip. “I got carried away.” Lori watches the full weight come crashing down on Gigi’s shoulders as she slumps forward on her stool. “Everyone’s going to see that…If William doesn’t take me off this project, Reynolds will for sure.”

“You don’t know that…” Lori offers. It’s the whitest of lies that drains all the rest of her words.

The awkward pause is broken when Anne Elliot bursts into the room, this time armed with an iPad mini as the production staff trickles in after her. Gigi’s eyes widen and she tries to bolt, pushing her way through the crowd now gathered in the small office.

“Don’t you want to stay and watch Georgiana?” Anne asks.

“There is no need for modesty. You did a fantastic job last time,” offers Harvey. “Exactly what we were looking for.” 

“Oh, uh…no. I’ve got…umm…” 

“Class project,” Lori whispers under her breath as Gigi stumbles passed.

“A class project!” Gigi shouts, nodding. “We're meeting at the campus library. Don’t want to be late. I’ll watch it later.”

Anne has already started to play the video, the tinny noise of an annoying Pepsi ad blaring The Romantic’s “What I Like About You” into the room. Gigi leaves while everyone turns their attention to the screen. Lori is able to slip out after her friend unnoticed.

“No-no-no-no-no-no,” says Gigi, spinning on the heels of her short boots and pushing Lori back towards the door. “Stay and see what they say.”

“But—”

Gigi’s eyes dart around. “Please.”

Lori swallows and nods, but does not move right away. Something in Gigi’s eyes alongside the embarrassment keeps her rooted to the spot. Slowly, Lori lifts her hands and puts them on Gigi’s shoulders. 

“He’s wrong,” Lori says, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

Gigi drops her gaze. “I know. But he’s my brother. He’s doing what he thinks is right.”

“Then you keep doing what you think is right.”

Gigi’s muffled voice seeps through the cracked door. Lori takes it as her cue to leave. She musters an encouraging smiles and begins to back into the office.

“Keep the clothes,” Lori suggests, unsure of what else to do. “Rock those squirrels.”

Gigi manages a weak smile before Lori turns away.

The room is peaceful as everyone watches Gigi explain the messaging feature, like the calm before a storm or soft waves of chiffon. Someone sniffs. Isaac checks his watch. 

Then Gigi’s narrative spins wildly out of control and every eye is glued to the train wreck playing out in front of them. Lori sense Harvey, who is standing next to her, tense up, nearly yanking out his arm hair in the process. She watches him lean towards Darren several times only to pull back—no doubt hoping Gigi will get back on track and salvage the episode. But when it finally becomes clear to him that that isn’t going to happen, he leans all the way and hisses into Darren’s ear.

“What the hell is this?” Lori is able to make out. Darren doesn’t answer, so Harvey tries again. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I’m a producer, not a director,” answer Darren. 

“We can’t upload that mess!” says Harvey loudly as the screen goes black. “I mean—Anne, you need to delete this. Now.”

Anne grimaces as she takes her iPad back up and quickly scrolls through the screens until she reaches what Lori assumes to be the real-time analytics, judging by the numbers and graphs. Anne shares what she finds with Martina from the social media team, who decided to sit in after the success of the first video. She is able to tear herself away from her Blackberry for just one moment.

“Anne!” Harvey demands.

“It-it might not be in our best interest,” says Anne, tapping a finger at the screen. “Just look at that view count already. If we take it down, it might just draw even more attention.”

“So? It’ll be gone.”

“Nope,” says Martina, cracking her gum as she peers down at her phone. “Gifs are already on Tumblr, which means several viewers have already downloaded the video to their computers. If we delete it, they’ll just share it.”

“Then we’ll take those down too!” Harvey pauses, realizing how deranged he must sound, and calms down a bit. He runs his stubby fingers through the bristle he calls hair. “Jesus. There is such a thing as bad publicity, you know. Miss Darcy’s unprofessionalism is going to reflect poorly on all of us.” He wheels around to face Darren. “All because you couldn’t control her! I know you’re not a director, but it’s called common sense. Use it! Just because she is a Darcy—”

“Isn’t that why you allowed her to be the spokes model in the first place?” snips Darren. 

Lori looks around at the uncomfortable faces in the room. It’s like listening to her parents fight. No. It’s worse than that. It’s like going to a friend’s house and listening to their parents fight. Being the closest to the door, Lori begins to edge towards it. She really has no reason to be there anyway with Gigi gone. Darren strides across the room though and gets his hand on the handle first.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” demands Harvey.

“PR. Do you think I’m happy with the way things turned out, Harv? I was blindsided, same as you. But standing around arguing about who’s fault it is isn’t going to do a damn thing.”

“I’m coming with.”

“Fine.”

The two men storm out of the room, Harvey in a frothing rage and Darren with a barely veiled anger bubbling just below his collected demeanor. Everyone still in the office is silent, listening to their receding footsteps and Martina smacking on her gum.

“I thought it was exciting,” says Martina suddenly, unprovoked. “Like, what were they even talking about? What incident? What man? What family? What is Mr. Darcy doing to help them? Is he, like, Superman or something?”

 _Sex tape. A douche canoe named George Wickham. Lizzie Bennet’s family. I don’t know, but I have a few ideas. And, no, but he owns a pretty stellar pair of Clark Kent glasses,_ Lori answers in her head. She guesses Martina isn’t the one who runs the Twitter feed. That person is definitely a Dizzie shipper. 

“To be honest, I don’t see what all the hullabaloo is about. Gigi showcased the messaging feature as required of her,” says Anne. “And to have Mr. Darcy on the demo and…and remark on it as well! Such an honor! Though I hope the drama doesn’t take away from showcasing my baby’s capabilities too much…”

Everyone else begins to pitch in their opinions, most of them favorable, though muted. There is a fake optimism about it all that Lori can’t stand. No one wants to look in the eye of the elephant in the room, even if it’s wearing a frilly pink frock and doing the robot.

That was probably their last Domino demo.


	15. February 5, 2010

“I’m hella sorry, Gigi. I just…ugh.”

For once, Lori is glad her mother forced her to always be prepared for the worst. Lori was as much of a planner as she was a morning person, but she is a firm believer in karma. The moment she failed to plan ahead was the moment everything would go to shit. So worse things could have happened when she found herself being jarred awake by her phone.

“Where are you?” came Gigi’s concerned voice before Lori could even mumble a hello. 

“…Why?”

“Cause I’ve been waiting outside wardrobe for, like, fifteen minutes.”

Lori glanced at the glowing red numbers of her clock. It was 7:15 in the morning. “What are you doing there this early?”

“It’s Tuesday. We're filming. Did you forget?”

There was a pause then, long enough for Lori to sit bolt-upright. She did not forget about the demos. No, she just simply thought they were no longer filming them anymore. Why would they after what happened on Friday? Granted, no one had said anything otherwise, but she had been pretty confident that one of the higher-ups would pull the plug on the entire project if they had any sense at all. It probably didn’t help that Lori hadn’t been in the office yesterday either, having taken the optional day off to recover from the 49ers loss. 

What did her father always say again? “When you assume, it makes an ass out of ‘u’ and me,” Lori whispered to herself, rubbing her temple.

“What?” asked Gigi.

“I’ll be right over.”

No shower, a quick change, and one car ride later, Lori unlocked the door to wardrobe for a flittering Gigi, apologizing as best as she could through a hazy cloud of confusion. Her body was still expecting one more hour of sleep. 

“I thought the demos were canceled,” says Lori as she pulls a garment bag from the rack that she had put together just in case. She lays it flat on a cutting table and unzips it to make sure everything is there—black skinny jeans, a sheer floral-print blouse with butterfly sleeves, a black tank top. Inside a little plastic bag is an opal pendant and a glitzy over-sized ring. It all looks to be in order. 

“I thought so too,” says Gigi. “But when I came into work yesterday, Darren called an impromptu meeting. Not everyone was there, but he said he’d send out an e-mail.”

Lori swore under her breath. Mystery solved, at least. She had a bad habit of not checking her work e-mail, if only because Brandon never sent any. He issued all of his commands either over the phone or in person. Or he left lists. Lots and lots of lists.

“What did Darren say?” asks Lori, picking the hanger up and handing the clothes off to Gigi.

“Nothing much. Harvey did most of the talking. I guess PR has everything in hand? Anyway, they told me to just keep doing what I’m doing. They’re committing to my ‘story’—whatever that means. Fitz is suppose to call during the demo so we can talk about how the search for 'that man' is going.”

Lori pauses. “Seriously? _Seriously!?_ ”

Gigi gives a wry smile that reminds Lori of Mr. Darcy. Sometimes they aren’t so different after all. “Harvey told me to highlight the auto-editing algorithm. They’re calling it the dramatic algorithm now, after what I did on Friday. Anne wasn’t too happy.” She clears her throat and stands up a little too straight, mimicking the lilt of the woman’s voice. “You can’t just change names willy-nilly! My baby deserves better!”

Lori smiles. “It’s a shame you never got to do costume theater with Lizzie.”

“I know, right!?” gushes Gigi. Her happiness fades though as she is reminded of something else. “Did you…did you see yesterday’s video…?”

“Yeah.”

What Lori doesn’t add is that the little squeak that escaped Lydia’s mouth when she discovered George’s betrayal was still playing on repeat in her mind. Before that moment, Lori hadn’t cared much about Lydia. She was annoying and thoughtless. Lori had tried to watch a few of her vlogs, but there was only so much shouting and acronyms one girl could take. She regretted it now, after going back to watch them all yesterday. If she had known—

But she hadn’t.

Lori wondered if Gigi felt the same, but she wasn’t about to ask. Seeing George manipulate Lydia was a window into what Gigi had gone through herself, and Lori hated herself for seeing it. It made her think that maybe she was wrong. Maybe Mr. Darcy did have a point and Gigi was too vulnerable. Bringing George up meant reminding Gigi of her hurt, her anguish. Her mistake. Would she be able to handle it? Lori didn’t want to cause her friend any distress.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” says Lori finally, pushing Gigi towards the changing stall.

“If my brother can find him, that is…” adds Gigi softly.

While Gigi changes, Lori picks up a pincushion shaped like an orange. If she squints real hard, she can almost pretend it looks like a peach. Perfect. She grabs that largest needle she can find and proceeds to stab it over and over again. For Lydia. For Gigi. For every girl who had ever been taken advantage of when all they wanted was to be needed. Was to be loved.

It’s just practice, really. If Lori got her hands on George Wickham, she would stab him in the heart with ten thousand flaming needles. Maybe then he’d know just a sliver of the pain that he caused others. And to never mess with the friend of a seamstress.


	16. February 7, 2013

“William got his number.”

Lori accidentally leans on the sewing pedal and runs the shirt through the ringer. It bunches up and stops the needle dead before she can even lift her lead foot. She stares at the destruction for a moment before deciding she’ll worry about it later. Right now, Gigi has her full and undivided attention. 

“George’s?” Lori clarifies.

“No, the President. We’re going to prank call him.” Gigi rolls her eyes. “Yes, George! Who else?”

Though Lori hadn’t asked, Gigi had made it her personal mission to tell Lori all she knew about the situation as soon as she knew it, starting after filming last Monday. Pemberly Digital was in the midst of buying up Novelty Exposures, which owned all the rights to the sex tape—every single reputation-ruining, ill-gotten copy—but needed George’s signature to complete the acquisition. Of course, the slimy bastard had disappeared, which was why Mr. Darcy was trying to track him down.

Lori would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little bit disappointed to find out punching George in the face had nothing to do with it. At least according to Gigi. Fisticuffs weren’t really her brother’s thing. A shame, really.

“That’s great!” says Lori, trying to muster a smile. They had to take the little victories where they could find them. “Will it help?”

Gigi pauses to bite her lip. “I…I don’t know. I hope so. Fitz is going to track down the GPS if it’s a smart phone and William’s been calling it every hour. I don’t think he’ll pick up though, if it’s an unknown number.”

“What, you think he’d pick up if he knew it was Mr. Darcy?”

“No. I think he’d pick up if it he knew it was, uh, me. I don’t have the number, but I think I could get Fitz to give it to me.”

Lori waits for Gigi’s words to sink in, hoping they’ll change, but they remain resolutely the same. 

“You…don’t think it’s a good idea…?” asks Gigi haltingly.

Yes. Lori wants to say that, yes, it sounds like a good idea. Whatever helps Mr. Darcy find douchebag George Wickham and end the Bennet family’s walking nightmare. But another part says no. _No, Gigi, you’re a really good friend of mine and I don’t want to see you upset._ And each voice tries to shout louder than the other until the only way Lori can drown them out is by taking the third option.

“Ah, this is a mess!” complains Lori, tugging the shirt free from the sewing machine and examining the fifty stitch pileup. She digs through her kit until she comes up with her trusty seam ripper and gets to work. A quick glance over her shoulder tells her Brandon is too absorbed in his own work to interrupt her and Gigi for once. Of course, the one time Lori needs him…

“You don’t think I can handle it, do you?” asks Gigi.

“I never said that,” says Lori, not meeting Gigi’s eyes. Yanking canary yellow thread out has suddenly become the most engrossing thing in the world. 

“You don’t have to.”

 _Déjà vu,_ Lori thinks. _Noun. From the French. Same conversation, different Darcy._

“Did you ever believe it?” demands Gigi. Lori looks up and is reminded of Lizzie in episode fifty-nine, right before Mr. Darcy came in to deliver is ill-fated proposal—gritted teeth, tense neck, narrowed eyes, a death glare sharp enough to cut diamonds. “I don’t know how many times you told me that I was stronger than I thought I was. Were you just lying to make me feel better? Was that it?”

She’s raised her voice to the point of attracting attention. Someone in the racks drops a hanger. Rhonda has even stopped talking on the phone, covering the receiver with her hand and pretending to look through her appointment book. She’s not fooling anyone. 

“N-no,” stutters Lori. “I really thought—”

“But you don’t anymore, huh?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You don’t know!?”

Gigi tilts her head, her jaw tightening further. She valiantly keeps her tears away, knowing they aren’t going to help her cause. She shakes just a little, close to erupting, but only drops her voice down to a wounded whisper.

“I thought you were the one person I could count on not to think of me like that.” 

“Gigi…” Lori argues weakly.

But Gigi refuses to hear anymore. She spins around and storms out of wardrobe. Lori contemplates going after her, even going so far as to stand up, but there is really nothing else left to say. Anything more would be a lie.

She notices some of the others staring at her, but only moves when Brandon tells her he’s not paying her to stand around dramatically. Is that shirt finished yet? And as long as she is up, he would like a cup of coffee, one sugar, two creams this time. The teal corset needs to be re-boned for tomorrow. Has she filed away the new recites? The style board for _The Pickwick Papers_ presentation needs to get put together. Get it done. Now. Yesterday.

Lori is glad for the excuse not to think.


	17. February 12, 2013

“Has he…has he messaged you back yet?”

Gigi doesn’t react to Lori’s question at all, just continues to stare straight ahead as if she is alone in the elevator. Lori instantly regrets trying to make conversation and feels claustrophobic, the combination of the four walls and the awkwardness between the two of them closing in on her. She can’t take back any of the things she told Gigi—nor would she want to since it was honestly how she felt—only wishes everything could go back to the way it was…the two of them playing dress-up after hours, texting each other Pemberly gossip when they should be working, making vague plans to hang out outside of work but never getting around to it, gushing about art films and Ryan Gosling and _The Fault is in Our Stars_ and that new burger joint and Imagine Dragons…

Gigi hasn’t said more than the occasional terse word to Lori since last Thursday, avoiding her as much as possible. It’s made work lonely and quiet. Lori found herself more than once looking up at the wardrobe department door, half-expecting her friend to waltz in with yet another poorly thought-out excuse to give Brandon so she could talk to Lori. She wasn’t the only one either, she noticed. It seemed the entire wardrobe department had grown so use to Gigi’s random presence that they expected her too. 

Once, Brandon had caught Lori looking. “Lori,” he said, bringing her back. Lori waited for him to insist she get back to work, but the demand never came. “Why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee, take a break?” 

It had been the Brandon equivalent of giving her a hug.

The elevator dings cheerfully as the doors open on the seventh floor, ignoring the moods of its occupants. Gigi storms out, Lori trailing after her. Anne, of course, is the first one to spot them and comes clunking down the hall.

“Georgiana, you look lovely! Simply lovely. Lori, you really do a bang up job every time. Such a nice shade of lilac. Or is it violet?”

“Iris,” Lori answers flatly as they try to walk passed her. Gigi is able to dodge, but Lori isn’t so lucky.

“Well, I knew it was some flower!” says Anne as she blocks Lori’s way. “You have such a way with colors. You know, I was thinking of adding colors to my baby’s interface. Pemberly cyan is a good default, but since Domino is all about the user, I thought it would be thrilling if there were some customizable options! The others say that it might be more work than it’s worth at this moment in time, but I only want what’s best for my baby…”

Anne continues to babble on about the challenges posed by syntax highlighting for ten minutes—right up until Darren announces that they will begin filming soon.

“Are you coming, Lori?” he asks.

Lori blinks, wondering if Gigi asked him or if he just assumed she was sitting in again. She had last Friday, even after their fight. At first Lori thought it was an olive branch, but quickly realized it was spite. Gigi wanted to show Lori that she was going through with her idea to contact George regardless of Lori’s concern. 

“I…uh…”

“I think you should come,” says Darren, leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, Lori does as she is told, following him into the office. Gigi doesn’t even look at her when she enters the room and takes her usual seat, choosing to fiddle around with the clasp of her necklace instead. It’s an amber drop that has a bad habit of getting twisted, but Lori thought it was apt. Thanks to her Aunt Betsy, Lori is well versed in the spiritual powers of things like zodiac signs and tarot cards and gemstones, even if she doesn’t believe in them. If her memory served her correctly, amber was supposed to have a calming effect, relieving the wearer of tension and anxiety. It was a good stone to give to those who were grieving or depressed, but needed a clear head to make important decisions. 

Lori had switched a different necklace out for the amber one this morning.

“Gigi,” says Darren, grabbing the girl’s attention. Gigi looks like a doe in headlights for a moment before nodding. She turns on the app.

“Hey everyone,” she says, trying to wring out the tightness in her voice. She gives a sharp wave. “Gigi here…Well, you already knew that, but…” She almost rolls her eyes, silently berating herself. “I…uh…” She shakes her head. “Well…if you’re wondering if he has, um, messaged me back yet, that would be a no.”

Lori sits up straighter on hearing her words from the elevator parroted back to her. In that moment, she forgets that Gigi is filming the demo and opens her mouth to ask something, but, thankfully, Gigi knows Lori all too well and cuts her off before she has a chance to have her voice immortalized on Domino. “—And if you’re wondering if I’ve texted him several more times after that, that would be a yes.” She pauses here, then looks away, as if remembering that she’s angry at Lori and doesn’t want to give her any answers. “Whatever.” 

Try as Gigi might, she can’t keep her eyes dry as she begins to vent her frustration over what has happened. She delivers a heartfelt apology for not warning the world at large of George Wickham’s conduct earlier. Lori bites the insides of her cheeks to keep from trying to comfort her friend, from using Jane Bennet’s words: This isn’t your fault. You’re not responsible for anything George has done. He made his choices; his choices hurt people. That’s on him. There is nothing you can do about the past. 

Which is why Gigi is trying to get into contact with George in the present—to hopefully change the future. But is Gigi strong enough to do that? Lori still doesn’t know. 

_But I hope so,_ she thinks.

She realizes with a jolt that adding those four little words might have made all the difference in the world to Gigi. She wants Gigi to prove her wrong. She really does. Gigi knows that, right?

Lori catches Gigi glancing at her, but as soon as their eyes meet, Gigi drops hers to her lap, deep in thought. 

“What the hell?” she says suddenly. Lori smiles. That’s her girl. “Domino call…” Gigi steels herself. “George Wickham.”

Domino only gets his voicemail though and Gigi is forced to leave a message. It is by no means easy for her, but she does it. 

Just as she is about to move on to the next topic though, the familiar beep of an incoming message sounds. Judging from the faint dissent coming from Gigi’s mouth and the way she shifts in her seat, there is no doubt in Lori’s mind who is on the other end. She balls her hands into fists, digging her nails deep into her palms. 

“Hey, Peach,” drawls a familiar voice when Gigi commands Domino to answer. 

Lori sneaks a peak at Darren, who has gone rigid. His fatherly instincts must be kicking in. Lori doesn’t blame him. George’s voice makes her skin crawl too.

George acts as if he didn’t walk out of Gigi’s life for a big fat check, talking like the two of them just drifted apart as people sometimes do. Lori watches Gigi struggle to keep her emotions in check, but George sends them spiraling out of control when he turns on the video feed despite Gigi’s protests. Lori knows Gigi could probably do without that man’s face. His words are bad enough. But she still tries valiantly to confront him. Lori can only listen as George slithers his way around every accusation, pleading ignorance, innocence, shock, outrage—everything but the truth. He is a victim, and Lori gets the sense that he must believe it, or how else could he live with himself? 

Gigi gets more and more agitated as they talk, her voice rising with the tears behind her eyes.

“George Wickham, just tell me where you are!!!” she demands.

“Look, I really, really hope your brother finds who did this because time’s running out,” says George, unmoved yet still dancing around the question. “I-I gotta go.”

Gigi covers her mouth when she realizes she is losing him. 

“Bye.”

As Domino ends the recording, Gigi looks to Darren and Lori, hopeless. “Oh god, I’m sorry, excuse me!” she cries through her hand, unable to hold back the floodgates any longer. She gets up and runs out of the room, bowling over poor Isaac, who stutters a profuse apology. Lori is instantly on her feet and trying to follow her friend when Domino beeps again, stopping her in her tracks. 

Lori looks to Darren, who rounds the desk in two strides to see who is calling Gigi. 

“Won’t…?” starts Lori, but he shakes his head as he backs out of the camera’s frame.

“It’ll cut it out. I didn’t say anything while in the frame and my appearance was brief.”

“Who is it?”

“Mr. Darcy.”

His timing is impeccable. “I’ll go tell Gigi,” says Lori.

“Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” demands Harvey as soon as Lori takes a step out of the door into a knot of people

“What’s wrong with Miss Darcy?” someone else asks.

Lori ignores the questions and forces her way through the small crowd, overhearing Anne explaining to someone not to worry since the auto-editing feature will cut out the entire time Gigi is out of frame. The demo is the furthest thing from Lori’s mind though as she breaks through and rushes down the hall to the only place Gigi could have escaped to—the women’s restroom. She finds her friend crying into one of the sinks, setting off the automatic sensor. The rushing water drowns out her sobs.

“Gigi…” Lori says, tentatively patting the girl on the back.

Gigi holds herself up by gripping the edge of the wet counter, nearly slipping and hitting her chin on the edge of the porcelain sink. “I-I failed,” she manages to say between gasping breaths. “I…I…I couldn’t find…where he…he was…hiding.”

“But you got him to talk to you.”

“S-so?”

“So? That’s more than Fitz or your brother could do. So I know now. I know.”

Gigi wipes away her tears with both her hands and turns to look at Lori. “Know what?”

“You’re stronger than everyone, including me, thinks you are. You wouldn’t have called him otherwise. Hell, you wouldn’t have talked to him face to face.” Lori grabs the box of tissues from the alcove and offers it to Gigi. “If I was you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

“Of course you would…” Gigi takes a Kleenex and blows her nose.

Lori shakes her head so vigorously that she feels several pieces of hair fall out of her bun. “I’m not good at facing my problems. I just sort of let them build up. Like our fight.”

“Oh. Right.”

Gigi looks away. Clearly, she had forgotten. It was just like Gigi to live in the moment like that though. It was one of the reasons why Lori liked being friends with her so much.

“You calmed down a bit?” Lori asks. Gigi nods, grabbing another tissue. It was a good thing Lori always insisted on waterproof makeup when it came to styling. “Your brother is trying to get a hold of you. He called right after you left the room. I think he’s still waiting for you to pick up.”

Gigi’s eyes grow wide. “William?” She leans against the wall. “He must’ve figured out I called George. He’s not going to be happy.”

“You don’t have to talk to him right now, if you want. Darren or I could end the demo for you.”

“No.” Gigi strides towards the door. “He’s probably worried about me.”

“So was I, but I think you’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Gigi nearly tackles Lori with an unwanted hug, but Lori supposes the least she can do for her friend after her ordeal is accept it.


	18. February 15, 2013

“Ready to go? Here, I’ll grab your coat—”

“I’m not going.”

Lori’s words cause Gigi to freeze, one hand holding the sleeve of Lori’s paisley trench coat hanging from the end of one of the racks. The girl sputters a few times before saying anything that resembles English. 

“What do you mean!? It’s five. You are officially off the clock.”

“Like I need to be reminded,” huffs Lori. She tries to gather up the tulle she’s been battling with, but it would rather spring out of her arms and give her a headache. She gathers it all up again. “The actress gained some weight and we’re filming tomorrow—"

"On a Saturday?" gasps Gigi, as if the concept of working weekends is foreign to her. Actually...it probably is. 

Lori continues on as if she hadn't been interrupted. "...So I’ve got to let this out.” She smacks the dress form, looking prim and proper in a white wedding gown. It wobbles, causing Lori to suck in a sharp breath. She doesn’t want to add ‘wash by hand’ to her list on top of everything else.

“By yourself?” asks Gigi. She doesn’t even have to wait for Lori to answer, reading it from Lori's expression instead. “But that’s not fair. Didn't Brandon know the cast party was tonight?”

"Oh, he knew," says Lori darkly as she concentrates on gathering her tools together. She had been looking forward to dinner with the rest of the Domino Demo production crew in celebration of their last video all day, especially since Gigi had snagged them reservations at Lazy Bear. Lori had been dying to go since forever, but reservations were done by random lottery because the damn place was only open four days a month. She had friends of friends who had managed to get in, raving about the whipped maple eggs and chocolate chip cookie sous vide, and felt like that was as close as she was ever going to get. Then Gigi told her that it was her brother’s favorite underground restaurant, and that Chef David could get them in as long as she called a couple days in advance. _Anything for a Darcy,_ he had told her.

Lori suddenly finds her shears ripped from her hands.

“We’re going to the cast party,” insists Gigi. “C’mon! Give yourself a break. You’ve been working so hard—”

“Yeah. On the _demos_ ,” Lori clarifies, briefly fighting to get the shears back, but giving up and collapsing on a stool. “But I’ve slacked off on my other work. Brandon has every right to fire me for not doing the job I was hired to do.”

“He can’t fire you, Lori. My brother wouldn’t let him. William knows how upset I’d be.”

Gigi probably meant it as a joke, or to be sweet, but her careless comment doesn’t sit well with Lori at all. She stands.

“That’s another reason. I don’t want everyone to think I’m keeping this job because I know the right people, so I've got to get my act together.” 

The mirth fades from Gigi’s eyes as she begins to fiddle around with the shears. Lori feels bad. She just patched things up with Gigi and now, here she is, picking another fight. The disparity between them had always bothered her a bit, but there was no reason to bring it up now.

“But…thanks,” Lori adds. “I’d be pretty upset if I got fired too. I’d miss you.”

This lifts Gigi’s mood. “Look at it this way. If that did happen, it would actually force us to hang out outside of work for once!”

They laugh and it seems like everything is right with the world. Gigi places the shears neatly on the table next to the nest of tulle. Lori flicks it forlornly, watching it spin in place. Once Gigi leaves, it’ll be back to work. The least she can do is procrastinate just a little while longer. She has been dying to learn exactly what Mr. Darcy did to make sure Wickham would never be able to hurt anyone again (her money was on blackmail), but doesn’t want to bring that man up around Gigi if she can help it. So she falls back on what they had talked about right after the demo wrapped up.

“I still can’t believe your brother isn’t going to tell Lizzie what he did for her. It’s like he doesn’t want to be happy or something.”

“I know, right!?” gushes Gigi. “I want to tell her so badly. It’s killing me, you have no idea. But…” A long sigh. “You know.”

Lori did. They spoke about the situation at length earlier today during lunch. Or, rather, Gigi talked in circles weighing the pros and cons of telling Lizzie the truth and Lori listened while nibbling thoughtfully on her chicken wrap. In the end, Gigi decided that if she was capable of making her own decision, then so was her brother. She called George against her brother’s wishes, so it was only fair that he was allowed to keep his act of kindness a secret from Lizzie against Gigi’s wishes. This was her final decision, and she forced Lori to promise her not to let her change her mind again. Of course, five minutes later…

“Gigi, who are you texting?”

“No one! I mean…my…uh…friend. Katie. My friend Katie.”

“Really. From math class?”

Gigi hung her head like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies. After a moment, she pressed a couple of buttons on her touchscreen and looked away, pained.

“There,” she said, biting her lip and showing Lori her address book. “I deleted her number.”

Lori grabbed the phone to have a closer look. Sure enough, there was no ‘Lizzie Bennet’ between ‘Jane Bates’ and ‘Tom Bertram’ anymore. 

“I just don’t want to be tempted to call her,” Gigi explained, but Lori only smirked. “…What?”

“Like not having someone’s number ever stopped you. You’ll just beat Fitz up for it.”

Gigi’s face contorted as she tried to keep from laughing. “I’m being serious here!”

Overall, it had been a fun lunch.

“Maybe it’s a good thing she doesn’t know,” says Gigi, bringing Lori back to the present. She absentmindedly rubs her thumb along the jagged edge of the tulle.

“What makes you say that?”

“I…I never got the sense that she liked my brother like he liked her. Yeah, she doesn’t hate him anymore, but I’m not even sure if I could call them friends. I mean, you’ve seen the videos. I would just hate it if she were to find out what William did for Lydia and fall for him out of a sense of gratitude or something. You’ve got to admit, what he did was pretty epic. It would make any girl swoon.”

“Yes. I can only hope that a man will love me enough to buy me a porn company someday too.”

Someone clears their throat behind them, making both girls jump. For one horrifying moment, Lori thinks Brandon has returned for something he forgot, no doubt angered to find her shooting the breeze with Gigi and talking about porn. Relief floods her when she sees it is just Isaac, his face a flushed pink. It is clear he overheard that last bit. Gigi and Lori exchanged amused glances. 

“I got tired of w-waiting downstairs,” he explains.

“Oh, that’s right!” remembers Gigi, slapping her forehead. “I forgot I was giving you a ride. Sorry, Isaac.” She starts to march towards him before spinning around and walking backward. She swings her purse around like a wrecking ball. “Sure you don’t want to come, Lori? Last chance!”

Lori shakes her head and waves her friend off with a smile. She turns to the dress so she doesn’t have to watch the two of them leave.

As Lori gets to work with her seam ripper, she tells herself a story, as she is prone to do, about the costume. About the bride who scheduled taste testing after taste testing, just to make sure her succulent menu was perfect for her wedding, only to go to her last fitting and find out the zipper in the back would not close. Raccoon-eyed as her tears smeared her mascara, she broke down right there in the dressing room, frightening the elderly seamstress. This was supposed to be her moment, she bawled. This was all she ever wanted. But now it was ruined. Everything was ruined. She had missed her chance and she had nobody to blame but herself.

Softly, the seamstress began to sing a lullaby in her native tongue. She sang and sang until the bride finally calmed down. Once she was quiet, the seamstress reminded her that it wasn't too late. There was still time. There was always time.

 _Or she’ll make it,_ Lori adds with a smile. Nothing like a good Darcyism.

But a glace at the clock reminds her that the seamstress is a frigging liar.


	19. February 21, 2013

“Who am I going to watch the Lizzie Bennet Diaries with?”

“Relax. I’m not gone yet,” assures Gigi as they walk down the hall. She playfully bumps Lori’s shoulder, but Lori can hardly muster a smile. 

She had just attended her very last Domino demo meeting, a wrap-up that explored where Pemberly planned to go with the product next. As the costume designer, Lori didn’t really have to be there, but everyone who was involved in the production was invited to come to see the evolution of all their hard work, and she wasn’t about to say no to avoiding Brandon. Last Saturday she had failed to finish resizing the wedding dress in time and filming had to be pushed back a few hours. Not detrimental, but definitely unprofessional. It reflected poorly on Brandon and he had been giving her nothing but the evil eye ever since.

The meeting had gone well. Lori listened while the marketing team presented their findings. In just three short weeks, the demos had accumulated over a million views on Youtube. They argued that the success of the videos was not despite the personal subject matter, but because of it. As such, they were looking to partner up with a group of people who were willing to tell a story just like Gigi for the beta demo—though perhaps with more polish. Lori snorted under her breath at the euphemism given to Gigi’s very public breakdown. Gigi pretended to glare at her, but she was about as threatening as a corgi. Lori would have laughed if she hadn’t felt Ms. Reynolds’s eyes on her too. Now there was a woman whose stare could cut through sheet metal.

Then the bomb dropped, at least for Lori. It was decided that a small team—which included Gigi since she was the face of Domino and had the most hands-on experience with it—would go assist whomever Pemberly Digital chose. And that meant relocating for a while.

“But you don’t even know where you’re going,” Lori points out, the door to the wardrobe department looming ahead of them. It might as well be a black hole. “It could be all the way on the other side of the country. Or—worse—Seattle.”

Gigi giggles. “Not Seattle!” she mock begs.

“Yes! With their rain and their Puget Sound and their Seahawks.”

“Sounds dreadful. But I might not have to move at all. The best partners for the beta demo might be right here in San Francisco.”

“Let’s hope.” Lori holds up a hand and crosses her fingers as they stop walking. The production facility is a hive of activity as the new soundstage is being set up. They glace around, both trying to prolong their goodbye.

“I could probably get you on the team,” Gigi says, not for the first time.

Lori looks down at her boots. The left one is scuffed and she is suddenly very interesting in finding out how that happened. “No.”

“But—”

“These aren’t going to be spokes models. They don’t need someone to decide what they should wear.”

“Okay, so we don’t need a costume designer, but what about…uh…”

“What, moral support? Really, Gigi. It was fun. I’m glad your brother chose me and I hope I did a good job, but I played my part and now I’m finished.”

“But there has to be something I can do…”

“You can see if your brother has any more special projects that he thinks will suite me. Okay? But that’s it.”

Gigi sighs. “All right. I’ll tell him at lunch. He’s taking me out today. Oh!” Her eyes brighten as she clasps her hands together. “And I can find out if he had anything to do with getting Bing to go visit—”

Karen interrupts by peaking around the corner, causing Gigi to jump.

“Sorry...” Karen whispers. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you might want to wrap things up.”

Lori nods, reading the ‘ _You don’t want Brandon to catch you_ ’ look in her co-worker’s eyes. It is lucky his workspace doesn’t face the door, but he has been known to pace the floor from time to time.

“Look on the bright side,” says Gigi before she turns and leaves. “With me gone, I won’t be able to distract you from your work.”

Lori gives a grim smile. “With you gone, I’ll have nothing to keep me sane.”


	20. March 6, 2013

“Mr. Darcy wants to speak with you.”

Lori looks up from her denim distressing to meet Brandon’s piercing gaze, which softens when he notices Lori is equally confused. He steps to the side so she doesn’t have to crane her neck to look around him. Sure enough, Mr. Darcy is standing near the doorway engrossed by his iPad. At first he looks like he’s talking to himself, but he turns slightly and Lori can see the Bluetooth headset hooked around his ear. 

Lori frowns. She hadn’t seen much of Mr. Darcy since his return, but every time she did, he was always looking down. At his iPad. At his Blackberry. At reports in manila folders. As if numbers and figures were so much more fascinating than a living, breathing world. And maybe they were—at least they always made sense. Lori could understand that. But a Bluetooth? He wasn’t just occupying himself with his work; he was drowning out the world. 

“Do you know what he wants?” asks Brandon. He’s clenching his teeth again, like he always does when he’s nervous. Lori shrugs, hoping that will appease him, but his jaw remains tight.

“Maybe another special project?” she suggests, shuffling across the room. Her new violet heels are killing her. It’s only now that she remembers why she always wears flats. It’s embarrassing hobbling around in them, but a wardrobe department isn’t exactly a place where you can go barefoot—she’s already lost five pins this morning—so she’ll just have to suffer.

Mr. Darcy doesn’t look up, not that Lori expects him too. She picks up on his low voice as she approaches him.

“—at the Wardrobe Department right now.” He pauses to listen, his slender fingers sliding across the iPad. He rolls his eyes slightly and Lori suspects she knows who is on the other end. “That would be rather presumptuous, don’t you think?” He scoffs at the response. “Hardly.” Another pause. “Must I remind you that I’m doing this for you as a favor? It’s not detrimental that she know right this very moment.”

Lori realizes that she could probably stand there all day and Mr. Darcy wouldn’t look up and notice her, so she takes her chances during the lull in the conversation. “Mr. Darcy?” she prompts. 

“Lori,” he says. He glances up briefly to acknowledge her, then returns to his screen. “Gigi has browbeat me into being her messenger.” A smile dances on the edge of his lips as his sister voices her outrage about his phrasing in his ear. It’s raucous enough that even Lori can hear it. “You could have called her after work or waited until you saw her tomorrow,” he points out to her, his amusement fading fast. “It’s because you keep your phone on silent.” It takes Lori a moment to realize his last sentence was directed at her.

It wasn’t like Lori had a choice, with Brandon as her boss. Her ringtone, the brass foghorn blares from the soundtrack of _Inception_ , had gone off while he was in earshot a few months ago and that was the end of it. Most people knew better then to call in the middle of the day unless it was an emergency…but Gigi Darcy was not most people. It wasn’t all Gigi’s fault though. Lori’s friend Brianna set the ringtone ages ago as a joke and Lori just kept on forgetting to change it. One of the stock ringtones would have probably gone unnoticed.

“What did she want to tell me?” Lori asks, curious.

“Pemberly Digital has the unique opportunity to showcase Domino at South by Southwest Interactive, so Gigi and the rest of the team are flying out to Austin this Friday. They’ll be interviewing perspective partners for the beta test.”

“What? That’s hella awesome!” 

Darcy turns away a little, annoyed. At first Lori is afraid he is embarrassed by her lack of professionalism, but it is just Gigi again. “I am not going to repeat what she said,” he tells her. “I know you heard it. She’s very happy for y—” Gigi interrupts to say something. “No. I am not telling her that,” says Mr. Darcy firmly. “Tell her later tod—what do you mean, you’re busy? …I know, but—Honestly, it does not take that long to pack. You have all day tomorrow…You act as if I meant to spring this on you last minute!…Fine. I’ll tell her.” His eyes shift back to Lori, but they seem to look straight through her. “Gigi wants me to tell you that she will be unable to watch the Lizzie Bennet Diaries with you tomorrow morning. She has to prepare for her trip.” He glares to the side, as if Gigi is standing next to him. “Are you satisfied? May I go now?” He softens at whatever she says in return. “I know. I know. Goodbye, Gigi.” He taps the headset and shuts it off.

Mr. Darcy sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair, mussing its perfection. He lowers his iPad to his side. “Do you have siblings, Lori?” he asks.

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Gigi can be very ener—” Mr. Darcy freezes, his mouth still partially open as the word sticks in his throat. It takes him a few moments of silent gaping before he swallows hard and changes the subject. “Actually, I am glad I came down here. I have been meaning to stop by and thank you for your dedication during the Domino demo.”

Lori would hardly call picking out six outfits dedication.

“Allow me to rephrase that,” says Mr. Darcy, easily reading Lori’s face. “Thank you for being Gigi’s confidante. It was a trying time for her. For both of us. But knowing that she had a friend in you on whom she could rely assuaged my worry while I was away. And, for that, you have my sincerest gratitude.” 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me.” 

Lori blinks, not knowing what to say in response. It is beyond her how something so simple could mean so much, especially to someone like William Darcy, but he wouldn’t say those words unless he meant them. He was a man who cared like no other.

“You’re a good man,” says Lori finally, recovering. But the words are familiar and they continue on in her head: _And he’s been through so much…he deserves happiness._ And, suddenly, it becomes hyper important that he know this. “You deserve to be happy.”

Her words cause him to run for cover, hiding behind his iPad, but he tries to play it off with a dry smile. “I am. Company stock is up, Gigi is doing well—”

“With all due respect, Mr. Darcy, I’ve seen you happy and this is not it. At most you’re…you’re content.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Everything.”

Silence. Mr. Darcy’s eyes harden as he squints at the screen. “Tell me, are you happy with your job, Lori?”

“Er…” He looks up and it’s too late. Lori’s face says it all. She is tired of being treated like a liability, of her artistic vision being squandered by a man who is wrapped up in his own cold world. Constantly working in fear of being fired is exhausting, but the pay is good and the job market is bad, so what can she do, really? Things could be so much worse.

“But you’re content with it, aren’t you?” Mr. Darcy points out. “Unless you have the perfect job lined up, why risk this one? Sometimes risks work out—like Domino, for example. But other times…they…they don’t and you don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Lori nods. She’s seen the videos. She knows.

Mr. Darcy’s Bluetooth starts to beep and he answers the call. Ms. Reynolds apparently has some paperwork for him to sign, so he rushes a goodbye and starts to leave.

“Mr. Darcy!” Lori calls out before she loses her nerve and lets him disappears through the doorway. “I hope…I hope if you get that perfect job lined up…you take it.”

“I will,” he says, but he gives her a sad, lopsided smile.

Like he has no reason to hope.


End file.
